


You Must Be This Tall to Ride This Ride

by stigmata4



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Actor Paul Rovia, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Amusement Parks, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Daryl Dixon Has a Large Cock, Daryl Dixon Loves Jesus, Dating, Desus - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Family, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Good Sibling Merle Dixon, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mechanic Daryl Dixon, Nice Merle Dixon, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Paul "Jesus" Rovia Has a Large Cock, Rimming, Roller Coasters, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, darus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 202,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stigmata4/pseuds/stigmata4
Summary: The last thing Daryl had expected on a day at Six Flags was to be set up with the perfect guy by his family and friends. Now, this roller coaster ride is about to be out of control!





	1. Flash Pass to My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little side project while I edit my other work. Hope you enjoy it! As always, comments are welcome.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Holy Hot-As-Hell, Batman!” said Tara, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

“How do they stand it?” asked Rosita as the group walked past the Dynamic Duo of Batman- and Robin-costumed performers who were occasionally stopping to take pictures with the guests.

The relentless sun of Georgia in late August was compounded by the sweltering heat of the blacktop pathway into the Gotham City section of Six Flags, and it wasn’t even noon. Parents waited in what little shade they could find as the giant, rotating carousel-come-swing-set called the _Crime Spree_ slung their children 20 feet above the ground at break-neck speed, adding to their heightened anxiety; conversely, the kids continued laughing and squealing with delight. The tiny concession stand to the right advertised frozen lemonade in blaring letters. The line of 14 people was only getting longer.

“This was a stupid idea,” Rick grumbled. “We should’ve waited until the Fright Fest around Halloween. At least Judy’s at home with Olivia and the air conditioner running.”

“Stop berating yourself,” Michonne said, grabbing her husband’s head and planting a kiss on the man’s cheek. “The tickets were free, and you had the time off. Everyone’s having a good time.”

“It’s all good, Rick,” Gabriel said, patting the tall man’s shoulder. “Heat, sweat, bugs? No problem for us. We’re from Georgia.” The pastor’s laughter was infectious enough to illicit a grin and a chuckle from Rick.

“Yeah, you’re right, man,” Rick replied, nodding back. “I just want him to have a good time. He said he always liked it as a kid, whenever he could get in.”

“You’re a great friend,” Michonne assured. “And, a wonderful dad. Look there!”

Rick looked to where she was pointing. Off to the left was the start of the line for the _Mindbender_. After almost 40 years, the steel roller coaster was still one of the most popular attractions in the park. Sitting in the front row were none other than Carl and Daryl. Screams of “Oh! Shit!” and “We’re gonna die!” peeled out clear as a bell when the pair hit the first loop. The teen’s voice was undeniable, as was Merle’s follow up from the seat behind him. Gabriel and Michonne cracked up.

“Yeah,” Rick sighed. “That’s my boy.”

“That’s gonna be us next,” said Tara, sneer on her face as she looked at Denise. 

“Oh hell no!” Denise laughed. “You’re not getting me anywhere near that deathtrap!”

“Actually, Doc,” Eugene piped up. “It’s really a lot safer than it looks. The only incident on record was from 1984 when four people—“

“We’re going,” Tara declared. Rosita was over her shoulder, nodding to Denise. 

By the time the group had gotten their drinks and lemonade, Carl, Daryl, and Merle came sauntering back to the little crowd. 

“Dad!” Carl yelled, running up to take the lemonade Michonne offered and hugging her. “Thanks! You guys have to ride that.”

“Yeah, and you need to watch your language, young man,” Rick warned.

“I put him up to it,” Merle confessed. “Wanted to make sure we drummed up more business. Folks like a good scary rollercoaster.”

“You dared, but he went through with it,” Rick said, punching Merle’s arm playfully. 

“Watch it! That’s police brutality, Officer Friendly!” Merle jibed, then he lowered his voice and asked, “Have you heard from Pizza Man with our special delivery?”

“Got a text a few minutes ago. They’re getting on the _Georgia Scorcher_. They’ll meet us at the _Miner’s Cookhouse_ ,” Rick explained. “Said Maggie’s got a hankerin’ for barbecue.”

“What’re you two over yonder whisperin’ about?” Daryl asked, eyeing the conspirators.

“What?” the pair answered, looking confused.

“Yeah, right.” Daryl eyed the two men suspiciously for a second, then whistled at Carl. “C’mon, man! Let’s go ride _Batman_ while we still got short lines. Y’all comin’?”

The group quickly finished their refreshments and headed to the inverted coaster. The line chutes corralled the park visitors through a building and into a hall made up like the alleys and sewers systems of The Dark Knight’s home town. Flashing lights and mechanical sounds made the façade more entertaining. Daryl stopped ahead to usher in their group. Once they had all gathered in the Bat Cave, they got on a car together, sitting four in a row. The seat had shoulder strap belts that cinched up automatically and a cage front that locked down over the riders. Daryl, Merle, and Rick checked along with the attraction personnel to ensure that their family were secured before getting themselves strapped in next to Carl in the very front row. 

“Y’all okay back there?” Rick hollered back to Michonne and the others. 

“We’re good!” Michonne said. “Gabriel is praying for Denise!”

“I am facing my fears!” Denise yelled.

“Atta girl, doc!” shouted Merle. “Just think of this as the warm up for Goliath!”

The sound of a buzzer cut through the dark, amber lights flashing, steam jetting in front of the car as the floor plating below dropped down, leaving their legs dangling. The car lurched forward to the Batman movie theme blaring out around them. It smoothly connected onto the lift track and they began to rise above the trees, the whole park to their left and the massive east parking lot to the right.

“Damn, Daryl!” Tara cried out. “I can see those biceps bulging. Somebody’s been hittin’ the gym. Talk about ‘swole.’”

Daryl flipped her off playfully. 

“Holy god! Oh—sorry, Gabriel!” Denise said, seeing the redneck’s well-built arm better now that Daryl had shot a bird at her girlfriend.

“You’re fine, Denise,” Gabriel assured.

The car reached its zenith more than 100 feet above the ground. There was a click as the track switched over, and the cart began to pivot in a sharp spiraling turn to the left, picking speeding and slinging the riders forward into the first of two barrel loops. 

“Hold onto your ass!” bellowed Merle.

The yells of the occupants in the front row were drowning out all other sounds. Below, patrons were turning and heading over from the _Mindbender_ to check out the amazing ride based on the screams they heard.

Once they had gathered at the exit, the family started to make their way out of Gotham and back toward the restaurants. Denise was the first to admit that she had actually enjoyed the ride. It was the part about getting to the ride itself that was causing her trepidation, but she thought now that she might give some more rides a chance. They had just made it to the main strip watching the car full of riders sling nearly 100 feet straight down to bank up again on the hyper coaster, _Goliath_.

“Hey, Rick,” Daryl called out. “Let’s go get some food before noon. We hop back on the coasters when the lunch rush is on and the lines are less.” 

“Good idea,” Rick agreed. “We went light on breakfast today, since we knew we’d be riding around on roller coasters first thing.”

Daryl started to head back to the entrance. Rick caught his arm.

“Hold up,” Rick said. “We’re gonna eat in here.”

“Nah, man,” Daryl shook his head. “Me and Merle got stuff at the bikes. This place is a rip-off on food.”

“It’s our treat,” said Michonne. Daryl looked like he wanted to argue; a couple of years ago, he might have done just that, loud and brash, right in the middle of everyone and fuck the consequences. Rick and Michonne knew damn well the man didn’t want anyone’s charity. “You fellas are not guests—you’re _family_ ,” Michonne said in a low voice as she took his head in her hands and pulled his forehead down to hers for a moment, then let him go. Rick was glad she had stepped in to say it; his younger brother was more likely to see reason coming from Michonne.

Merle huffed, “Well, hell, you don’t want to hurt Rick and Michonne’s feelings, do ya?” He gave a fake pout at Daryl who just glared back. 

“Shut up, Merle,” he grumbled. 

Merle threw an arm around Daryl’s neck and followed the family. “C’mon, _Darylina_. Let’s go get us sump’n ta gnaw on.”

Daryl smirked back and playfully shrugged off his brother as they made their way to the _Miner’s Cookhouse_. Like most of the venues, there were short-order items. The majority of it was fried, but they actually had the best barbecue and sides in the park, and you could get a real salad as well. Just outside, there was a strong man challenge with the mallet and bell. A park vendor was hawking the attraction to get folks over to try to win a prize, typically a stuffed animal or rainbow wig or other such items. Taking his first of two swings was a young Korean-American. Daryl recognized him immediately. 

Glenn Rhee owned _Short Round_ , a really nice chain of pizza restaurants in the metro area. They went out of their way to deliver to his and Merle’s shop ever since they had helped Maggie’s sister, Beth. The young lady’s car had broken down on her way home to her father’s farm. Five members of the Red Machete MC (a local pain in the ass biker gang) had pulled up. The leader--some low-life named Joe--had initially posed as someone she thought was a Good Samaritan. Instead, he turned out to be a nightmare. Daryl and Merle had pulled up on the scene just in the nick of time, rescuing her, and beating the utter shit out of the punks who tried to claim the girl as some sort of sick reward for fixing her car. Merle’s hand got cut up pretty bad in that fight. If it hadn’t been for Maggie’s father, Dr. Hershel Greene, who also happened to be the Dean of a local veterinary college, Merle might have lost his hand, if not his life. That incident resulted in Glenn drawing up a permanent service contract for his delivery fleet with _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_. The Greene family knew Rick as well. Daryl watched as the young man swung again and struck the lever. The bullet stopped just shy of the bell.

“Yo, Glenn!” Daryl said, running over. The two men started a handshake that Glenn quickly pulled into a hug. “Good to see you, man! Hey, Maggie! How’s Beth?”

“I’m good and right here!” the lively young blonde squealed and hugged Daryl’s neck. “Where’s my Mer—There he is!” Beth screamed, running over to give Merle the biggest hug in the free world. 

“We’re doing good,” Maggie said, finally getting her chance to hug Daryl and Merle. “Daddy and Annette said they want y’all to come out to the farm and celebrate with us for Labor Day. We’re gonna cook out; Daddy’s got a DJ, there’s dancin’, and games, and everything you could want to eat and drink. We’re even having some pretty cool fireworks out by the pond this year. _Please_ say y’all will come.”

Daryl nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” Maggie said, smiling. “There’s also somebody I want you to meet.”

Daryl leaned his head back from the pretty brunette with the sly look in her sparkling green eyes. He glanced over at Merle and Rick. Beth was hanging on Merle’s arm, giddy as a loon. Michonne and Rick were doing that thing where they were smiling but talking quietly to each other through their unmoving teeth. It was very disconcerting.

The bell rang out as the bullet struck home. A guy with long hair in a black tank top with the album cover from _Some Girls Wander By Mistake_ by The Sisters of Mercy and skinny jeans with gray sneakers took a cute blue teddy bear from the vendor, thanked the man politely, and walked over, handing the bear to Glenn. He was lean and muscular, only slightly shorter than Daryl by maybe two or three inches. 

“Here he comes,” said Maggie, waving the young man with the lustrous long hair, perfect beard, and sunglasses over to join them. He was a dark blonde with flawless skin, slightly sun-kissed, and pink, perfectly kissable lips.

“It’s all about hitting the right spot,” the young man explained to Glenn. “Oh, hi!” he said, turning back to Daryl.

“Daryl Dixon, this is our brother, Paul Rovia,” Maggie said. 

“But my friends call me Jesus,” Paul grinned. “So, whichever you like.”

He reached out his hand. Daryl took it and swallowed when the young man took off his glasses. The most perfect, most beautiful, most divine pair of eyes he’d ever seen stared into his own, and for the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon knew what it meant when someone said they were riveted. He was totally ‘shook,’ as Carl, Enid, or Sophia might have said. Daryl felt his face begin to turn red when he realized his lips were parted and his mouth snapped shut. He was all but gawking.

“They’re nice,” Daryl said. 

“Huh?” Paul questioned, unsure of what the man had meant.

“I mean—it’s nice to meet you too, Paul,” Daryl said softly, shaking his hand a moment longer than necessary. He finally released it, blushing a bit.

“Paul’s been off at college and living in Los Angeles for a few years,” Maggie explained. “But now he is back, and he's recently started working close to home again.”

“Here you go,” Paul said, handing her the bear and kissing her cheek. “My first gift for little Hershel. Now where are we eating?”

“Yes! Let’s go get somethin’ to eat. Pregnant girl is gettin' 'hangry,' and I smell barbecue,” Maggie agreed.

The group went into the tiny restaurant, got their food, and took it out to the shaded picnic tables to enjoy it. Daryl ended up at a table with Paul, Beth, and Merle. 

“Beth tells me you guys hunt,” said Paul.

Daryl grunted his confirmation, not meeting Paul’s electric eyes.

“Yeah,” Merle nodded. “But I ain’t half the hunter and tracker Daryl is.”

“Maybe we could go hunting some time,” Paul suggested. “It’s not regular season, but Daddy’s got lots of private property.”

Daryl looked over at Merle as he shook the ice in his empty cup.

“You want some more tea, darlin’?” Merle asked Beth.

“Yep,” she nodded, rising to go with the big man. “We’ll be back.” They walked back into the restaurant.

Paul turned back to Daryl. “This is the first time I’ve been back here in over ten years. Goliath wasn’t even here when I left.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time for me too,” Daryl huffed.

“I want to say thank you,” declared Paul. “If you and Merle hadn’t come along when you did, Beth might have been hurt badly, or raped, or been killed, or all of the above.”

Daryl looked up at the beautiful man beside him. He wanted to dive into those misty blue eyes. 

“Man, anybody decent woulda—“

“But you guys _did_ ,” Paul said. “You were the decent ones. So _thank you_.” His soft smile made Daryl’s heart skip a beat. “So, now that that is out of the way, tell me all about you, Daryl.”

Daryl blinked, then shrugged and said, “Ain’t much to me. I come from nothin’, but I try to be better than what I was. Got a shop, got my brothers—Merle by blood, Rick by choice—got my family.”

“That ‘by choice’ part doesn’t make it any less true.” Paul shrugged and added, “I should know.”

Daryl smiled back.

“Hey, Daryl,” cried Carl, dropping his Styrofoam container and drink cup into the trash can as he approached the pair. “You guys wanna go ride _Goliath_ now?”

Daryl thought he caught Rick trying to tell his son to “leave them alone for a minute.” He turned his attention back to Carl.

“Sure thing, man,” Daryl answered. 

“Can Paul ride with us? Dad says he’s gonna ride the _Monster Plantation_ with Michonne and Glenn and Maggie. It’s for little kids, but it’s got air conditioning.”

Paul laughed.

“You into roller coasters, Paul?” asked Carl.

“Are you kidding me? I _love_ thrill rides,” Paul replied, smiling. “In fact, I may be able to help us out. Give me just a sec while Daryl finishes his meal. Be right back!" Paul got up and ran off to the souvenir shop nearest them.

Daryl noticed his own ribs were still untouched on his plate; he’d only stopped watching the man’s cute ass when he had turned in the doorway out of sight. 

“I wish my hair looked like that,” sighed Carl. 

Daryl huffed a laugh. “Yours is well on its way,” the redneck said. He’d have tousled it himself if not for the barbecue sauce on his fingers. Instead, he finished another rib, a few bites of mac and cheese, his slaw, wiped his hands on the napkins and wet-wipes, and downed his water.

By the time he tossed his container in the trash, everyone was getting up. Paul was walking back up to the picnic area and handing out paper strip bracelets.

“These are for today,” he said. “Just a little thank you for having me along and making me feel welcome. Wear them wherever you are in the park. Vendors and rides will scan them for you.”

He put one around Carl’s wrist, pulled the adhesive cover and affixed the ends together.

“Holy shit!” yelled Carl. 

“Language!” Rick and Michonne warned in unison.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said, then turned to Daryl and held up his new bracelet. “Flash passes! We can bypass all the lines!”

Daryl looked wide-eyed as Paul took his left arm and placed the pass bracelet around his wrist.

“Can’t get to everything if we have to wait in line all day,” Paul explained. “Let’s go to _Goliath_!”

Daryl noticed that everyone of their group was putting on the pass bracelets. He figured Paul must have spent way too much money on a single day. He caught Merle’s eye, and his big brother just smiled back and nodded for him to let the cute guy give him the gift.

Less than two minutes later, they had walked through the pass line, scanned their new bracelets, and taken their seats on the hyper coaster. 

“This thing is rocketing at like 70 miles per hour almost straight down, then out of the park and across the front lake and back around!” Carl explained. He had read up on the rides to prepare for their day.

As the teenage operator engaged the seat locks, Daryl noticed that there were no harnesses nor locking cradles that came down around your shoulder and torso. No, this was a cushioned, form-fit lap lock that clamped into place comfortably across the hips and thighs. That was all. Carl wanted an outside seat, so Daryl sat between the boy and Paul with Merle on the outside. Beth, Rosita, Tara, Denise, Eugene and Gabriel were in the next two rows—well, Eugene claimed he liked the last row of a coaster best, but that was his thing. The ride began its ascent to 200 feet above the park.

“You didn’t have to go spending on all this.” He held up his wrist with the Flash pass. “I mean, you just moved and all,” Daryl protested. He had to lean into Paul’s shoulder a bit. It couldn’t be helped since his shoulders were so wide.

They were about halfway to the top. 

Paul leaned back over. “It’s nothing. Really. I wanted to,” he reassured.

Daryl looked skeptical.

“Would it help if I told you I make really good money?”

“What do you do?” Daryl asked.

“I’m in the entertainment industry,” Paul said. “Maggie or Beth didn’t tell you?”

Daryl shook his head.

“Well, actually, I’m an actor,” Paul said. 

Daryl knew there was a lot of stuff filming in Atlanta now.

“I guess when you looked at me earlier--I was under the impression you recognized me, but don’t worry,” Paul said. “If you’ve seen me in anything, it was probably in a bit part. Most of the bigger stuff I have done was in independent films and a cable show, but I'm now in a major cable series that shoots here. I hope it’s gonna be pretty good. This is kinda my big break.”

“What’s it called?” Daryl asked.

“Unfortunately, I can’t talk about it due to a non-disclosure agreement. And I really want to, but I am not paying them a million dollars.”

“You for real?”

“Yep,” Paul nodded. 

They were almost to the top.

“Oh my god, we are so high up!” Carl yelled. He sounded nervous.

“The closer to Jesus!” yelled Gabriel.

“I’m up here in the front seat!” Paul yelled back.

“I feel better already,” Daryl said jokingly.

The car rounded the top of the ride and plunged downward. The screams of the riders exhausted before the ride even made it to the end of the first descent; it was that far down. By the time they made it to the cone spiral, the slight euphoria of blood rushing from the head got everyone’s attention. The ride was smooth and exhilarating. Flashes went off just at the final curve back to the loading deck and the ride jerked to a near halt and cruised into its turn to wait for riders to get off and new ones to get on.

“That was amazing!!!” cried Carl.

“I concur, young deputy,” said Eugene. “That is in my top 20 fun rides in the US.”

“We are definitely doing that again,” said Rosita.

“What’s next?” asked Denise. She was really getting into the spirit of things with these roller coasters.

Tara gave Merle a fist-bump.

“Told you,” Merle said. His cellphone rang, and the answered it while going down the stairs.

“Can we go on _Superman_ next?” asked Beth. “Wait ‘til you guys see this one.”

“You’re flying like the Man of Steel!” exclaimed Carl, following after the pretty blonde.

Daryl touched Paul’s arm to get him to hold up for a second. He turned back to Merle who had just finished his call and was catching up. “Everything okay at the shop?”

“Yeah,” Merle nodded. “T-Dog said Morales had to go home early. Sick as a damn dog.”

“Patrick can fill in,” Daryl said. “He’s good with all the basics.”

“Don’t worry, baby brother. That’s what I told him.”

Daryl squinted. “So why didn’t he just call me?”

Merle looked back and sighed, “Because I told him not to. You need some R & R, son. All work and no play makes Daryl an asshole to deal with, and I’m enough of an asshole at the shop for all of us.” Merle shrugged. “’Sides all that, I want you to have some fun 'cause I love you, and I care about you and your well-bein' and all that horseshit. You don’t like to hear all this mushy shit, and I don’t like to say it, but there it is. I want you to be happy. God knows we didn’t get any happy growin’ up. Now go over yonder, and talk to that pretty gentleman who’s caught your eye ‘fore some Brad Pitt-looking fucker comes by and steals him away.”

Daryl smirked back. “You and Rick think you’re both so slick.” 

Merle looked at a loss for one of the few times Daryl had ever seen in his life. 

“Thanks.” That one word was all that Daryl needed to say; he hugged his big brother right there in the park. Even better, Merle hugged him right back, not giving a single shit what anybody might think or say. Fuck ‘em. They walked up to rejoin the others and hitched a ride on the train that ran around the perimeter of the park.

After bumper cars, in which Merle was the freaking master disaster, they found ice cream cones and enjoyed flying like a Kryptonian on the _Superman_ coaster. The inverted, heart-shaped loop was intimidating to say the least. Denise almost chickened out.

From there they rode nearly every ride at least twice. At the hottest part of the day, they rode the water rides; Daryl and Paul ended up soaked under a waterfall on _Thunder River_. They made their way up to the water cannons to open fire on Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, and Rick when they spotted them in line. 

They took Carl to _The Wheelie_ and let him ride the spinning rocket wheel with Glenn, making him promise not to throw up if he got sick. Daryl tucked Paul into the tiny car with him, his colossal arms wrapped around the smaller man's waist to brace him against the G-forces. By the time they got to the _Dahlonega Mine Train_ , it was nearing sunset. One of the oldest steel coasters, it didn’t have fancy turns, but the final turn slung the person on the left totally into the person on the right. Paul ended up plastered against Daryl’s broad chest as the ride came to a halt.

“Sorry! Oh my god! I-I-didn’t mean to,” Paul sputtered, his right hand on Daryl’s thigh.

“You don’t hear me complaining, do you?” Daryl asked, his voice low and husky and his nose and mouth next to Paul’s ear. Daryl thought it was pretty cool that he had actually made the guy blush.

After drying out from _Splashwater Falls_ and the _Log Jamboree_ , where Daryl had enjoyed riding in Paul's lap, they had made their way up to the _Sky Buckets_. Carl, Merle and Beth had headed back to Gotham City to seek out the _Batman_ ride before the park closed.

The cable lift took off, the pair seated together.

“C’mere,” Daryl prompted. Paul shifted from the seat across to sit next to Daryl as they glided along far above the park and crowds. “That’s better.”

“So are you and Merle coming to Labor Day?” Paul asked.

Daryl nodded.

“Do you have a date?”

Daryl tilted his head and replied, “Merle does. Nice lady named Carol. Got a daughter, Sophia. She’s sweet on Carl.” 

“And you?” Paul arched an eyebrow.

“Nah,” Daryl grunted, shaking his head and looking through his bangs, storm-blue eyes connecting with those misty blue irises.

“Do you want to be mine?”

Daryl saw Paul swallow. He had to admit that the guy had some balls to ask him so directly. Was he having the same effect on Paul that the man was having on him? 

“You askin’ me on a date?” Daryl asked. If he’d looked up “hot” in the dictionary, this guy’s picture would be right next to the definition.

“Unless you don’t think you’d be interested—” Paul said. He was giving him an out.

“Yes!” Daryl blurted out. “I am very—,” he swallowed and cleared his throat. ”Very interested.”

Paul sighed in relief and smiled. It could’ve lit up all of Atlanta.

“But,” Daryl said. “I don’t want to wait ‘til Labor Day. I wanna take you out. Maybe see if you like me beyond just what you been told or what you seen today.”

“That’s fair,” Paul agreed.

“Tomorrow night,” Daryl said. “Pick you up at 7:30. Nice jeans, nice shirt kinda thang.”

“I can’t wait,” Paul smiled. So did Daryl. _I Only Have Eyes for You_ by The Flamingos was playing softly over one of the nearby speakers, now on an oldies playlist. The pair took out their phones and exchanged numbers as they rode along close together, their shoulders rubbing purposefully. Paul also put his address into his contact info.

As the duo emerged from the lift exit, they decided to head back to Gotham to catch the last _Mindbender_ ride in the dark, with the track lit up. Daryl explained that it had been his favorite since he was a kid and tall enough to ride it. From the moment they entered the coaster's line to the minute they walked out of the ride exit, they were hand in hand, fingers interlaced; they were still just so when they caught up with their group. Carl and Denise were making short work of a funnel cake; Carl nearly dropped his when he looked over and saw his uncle and Paul holding hands so happily. Maggie gave her brother a quick wink as she and Tara were splitting a brownie; Tara's eyebrows were skyward and she was biting her lips mischievously. Rosita, Gabriel and Eugene, smiled and toasted the pair with their drinks. Michonne was smiling at them as they approached. Just behind her, Merle and Rick exchanged a fist-bump; their eyes were wet. Merle turned his head and sniffed once.


	2. Lift Hills & Launch Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first date is here, and Daryl's friends and family are determined to get this romance off to a perfect start!

Around 7:20, Daryl heard Merle’s Ford F-150 pickup roll up into the employee parking lot directly behind the shop. The big man strode in the back door, yelling out greetings and snorts of mock derision to his employees, all the while carrying a large doughnut box.

Daryl couldn’t help but huff as a smirk formed on his face. “Damn, Merle. You buyin’ on a Friday morning? What the hell’s got into you?”

“Just another beautiful day in paradise, little brother!” Merle exclaimed, dropping the box on the table in the employee breakroom, and looking over to find that someone had already turned on the large, industrial coffee maker. 

“Where’d you get these?” Daryl asked. There was no visible label or logo. “Krispy Kreme run outta boxes?”

“Fuck Krispy Kreme, son! You wait ‘til you try one of these beauties!” Merle crowed, opening the box to let Daryl see and smell the heavenly pastries, still warm. He was pleased to note that half of them had a dark chocolate glaze.

“Is that what I think it is?” the younger Dixon asked, eyes wide, a full smile breaking across his face.

“You bet your sweet ass, son! These are right outta that new island fryer we put in for my woman,” Merle said proudly. “She’s said she wanted to try out a new recipe.”

Daryl took a chocolate glazed doughnut and put it on a paper plate. “Oh yeah? When did she say that? Last night when you was tellin’ her my business?” Daryl said, laughing as he poured hot coffee into his favorite _Triumph Motorcycles_ mug.

“Aww, c’mon, man!” Merle griped. “Don’t be mad at me. I’m—I’m happy for you, and I just like sharing good news with my woman. Ain’t that what I’m ‘sposed to be doin’? Christ all mighty, don’t be sore, please!”

“Hey, hey! I ain’t mad at cha,” said Dayrl, clapping Merle on the shoulder. “Just didn’t figure word would be spreading around so damn fast. For Christ’s sake, I just met him yesterday.”

“And,” Merle added, “Now you got a big date tonight. Where y’all goin’?”

Daryl pondered over whether or not to tell his brother. Ever since he had cleaned up his act, Merle had been a great partner to Carol, a wonderful father-figure to Sophia, a first-rate manager and co-owner, and an awesome big brother to Daryl, and by extension, to Rick and family. The problem was, he could go overboard in a hurry. Daryl really wanted to avoid that, lest it frighten Paul away. He took a chance. 

“I gonna take him over to _Barrington House_ for dinner,” Daryl said. “After that, we might walk around downtown, get to know each other better. Thinking I’ll call Tyreese and see if they can do me a solid and open long enough for us to get some late night coffee.”

Merle whistled. “Damn, son. You gonna need a credit check to get in that fancy new place?”

Daryl raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“What time you leaving?”

“Five-thirty I reckon,” Daryl shrugged. 

Merle just rolled his eyes. “God, what am I gonna do with you? You got shit to do today, son! You got to get your outfit, get your truck washed and cleaned out—“

“I got clothes, and my truck is always washed and cleaned, unlike somebody else I know—“

“Don’t fuckin’ interrupt!” Merle groused. “You got to get a haircut, trim ya whiskers, get them rough-ass hands sanded down.” Merle lowered his voice and looked around to make sure they were not being overheard. The moment he started to continue, T-Dog stepped in looking for the doughnuts. 

“You got plenty of rubbers and lube? You still taking them PrEP pills Doc Carson gave ya?”

Daryl nodded, trying to be cool about this conversation so as not to dampen Merle’s efforts. Here was part of what he had been worried about: Merle was trying, if a bit too hard, but then again, Merle had to be Merle. “I think I got all that covered, man. Thanks!”

Merle had the decency to look somewhat sheepish; he knew he was pushing, but he just couldn’t help himself. T-Dog, who’d been silently taking in the exchange, was a close enough friend that he felt able to just jump right into the conversation.

“You ready for the big date, man?” T-Dog asked, smiling and helping himself to a couple of doughnuts from the box. Daryl gave Merle a sharp side glance.

Merle shrugged and gestured in supplication. “Man, I had to tell him so we could plan around you leaving early what with Morales still out sick.”

“Yo, Daryl,” T-Dog assured, voice serious. “If you need to go take care of yo’ business, you go ahead. You got to get yo’ game on, bruh!”

“Thanks, guys,” Daryl said. “Really. I got this.” He wasn’t really upset. In a way, it was touching that Merle had been thinking along these lines. 

_Carol._

“I mean, if you gotta go home and—well, you know—get yourself ready for—“

“Merle!” Daryl stopped him, nearly spitting his coffee. T-Dog became very quiet and still, mouth open with a doughnut partially bitten through, waiting to see if Daryl’s coffee cup and its near-boiling contents might take flight, and if so, in which direction. 

Daryl inhaled through his nose, smiled back at his brother, and replied kindly. “That’s something you definitely ain’t gotta worry about. Okay, man? Believe me, if it comes to that, we know what to do. We’ll handle that part. Literally.”

“Well, you know, come to find out, I really like it when Carol—“ Merle was nodding emphatically and trying to demonstrate using his pinky finger on his doughnut when Patrick suddenly walked in. The big man swallowed the rest of his comment, his poor doughnut stuck awkwardly in mid-air, little finger impaling it to the last knuckle.

“Hey, guys!” Patrick said, giving a “Hang- 10!” pinky wave to Merle.

T-Dog and Daryl burst out laughing. Patrick was very confused and thought it best to remain that way. Merle started laughing at himself as well and told the kid to get a damn doughnut and learn his own sex games on the playground. And so began the day at _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_.

At 11:30, Daryl called _Barrington House_ , left a message requesting a table for two at 7:30 that evening, and left a call back number. A pleasant guy by the name of Heath called back to let him know that his reservation for 7:30 was confirmed. Next, he called _The Mean Bean_ and got hold of Sasha to ask a huge favor. That handled, he went back in to change out the spark plugs on Lori Walsh’s SUV and shoot the shit with Shane while he finished up. Around 12:30, Merle returned from his lunch break with his hair trimmed and styled. He went over to Daryl and announced, “Okay, you’re outta here. Go take care of business. We got this. Go on.”

When it was clear Daryl wasn’t going to be allowed to stay at his own place of business without being hounded, he finally relented. By 1:15 he had grabbed his gym bag with clean clothes and made it over to the _Safe Zone_ Spa, owned by his friends Eric and Jared. They had met through the local Chamber of Commerce; now, the guys, their respective partners, and Daryl were all very close. He knew the boys would be terribly hurt if he didn’t share the news of his upcoming date with them. Poor Eric and his husband, Aaron, who was the Vice Principal at the high school, had been trying to set him up for over a year to no avail. Jared and his long-time boyfriend, Alden, had been trying to get Daryl out into “the scene,” as they called it: bars, nightclubs, and even sip-and-paint nights were their ideas of trying to help him “find opportunity” as they so eloquently put it. He usually had fun with them—and sometimes the guys they set him up with--but Daryl still hadn’t met anyone he considered long-term material.

The bell over the door chimed out, and Jared looked up from the desk, winking over at Daryl and grinning as he spoke on the phone to a client; his long, silky, brown hair bespoke of a recent blowout. “No, Jessie’s off today, but I will be happy to take you this afternoon at 4:00. Will that work?” he said into the receiver, smiling big and waving Daryl on in the front door of the spa. “Uh-huh, I am so sorry to hear that, but don’t worry, Mary, color correction is a specialty of ours, so don’t stress out, okay? Just keep in mind next time that this is why we don’t go to salons with an End-of-Days theme in their business name. _Terminus Hair Factory_ sounds like a place to avoid.” Daryl snickered quietly as Jared covered the receiver and hissed, “Bless her heart!” He removed his hand and continued, “Yeah, just have Gareth drive you over, and I’ll fix it, darling. Ohh-kay. See you after while! Yes ma’am, bye!” He hung up the phone, shaking his head and sighing. “Lawd, my load is heavy. Hey! Get in here!” he said, waving Daryl over to hug his neck. “Been waiting on you ever since Merle left.”

The mechanic shook his head. “I thought that haircut looked familiar.”

“Guilty as charged! So, full disclosure: he told me, but not Eric,” said Jared. “He wanted you to be able to tell him.”

“Lemme guess,” sighed Daryl. “He paid too.”

Jared nodded. “You have a sixty minute massage and aroma therapy with Frankie, a wax with me, and a mani-pedi with Miss Bertie. Then, you can shower up, and Mr. Eric will dust your crop so you can be sharp as fuck for your evening!”

“I’m gonna beat his ass,” Daryl muttered, shaking his head. “And, I think I’ll pass on the ass waxing. I can handle my own manscaping.”

“Daryl Dixon!” Jared chided. “Merle is just trying to be a good big brother and get you laid. Now, if that’s not brotherly love, I don’t know what is. So, you just c’mon back, and relax, and let us do all our stuff and thangs!”

Daryl huffed a laugh and headed back to Frankie’s massage therapy room. He changed his mind later and decided to let Jared at least ensure that he had no crazy back- or old-man-ear-hair. Jared even checked his eyebrows to make sure he was picture perfect. It didn’t hurt half as much as the movies made it out to be. By the time he had completed his mani-pedi, got a nice hot shower, and changed up, it was nearly 3:00. When he reached Eric’s shampoo station, the adorable master stylist stepped in and unfurled a fresh smock to set over Daryl, affixing it around his collar. 

“I am so happy to see you!” Eric said. “What brings you here on a Friday afternoon? I thought you’d still be at the shop.”

“Merle gave me time off for good behavior,” Daryl joked. 

“Well, let’s make the most of it!” He lowered the back of Daryl’s chair and gently secured his neck on the shampoo sink. The man’s hand were extraordinary. Daryl had heard the guy play the piano like a maestro. He could do to the scalp what Frankie could do to relieve Daryl’s back and leg tension. Now that his fingers were working the lather through Daryl’s tresses, he felt like he could fall asleep for an age. When he had been conditioned, rinsed, and towel blotted, Eric directed him into the styling chair in front of the ceiling to floor mirror. They continued their conversation through the mirror.

Eric arched a brow. “So now tell me, what are we doing today?” He pulled his fingers through Daryl’s hair and checked the length.

“I need a good trim,” Daryl explained, then added proudly. “For my date tonight.”

“Shut the front door!” Eric yelled, jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Daryl Dixon, I am so happy to hear that!” He leaned in and hugged Daryl, kissing the man on the temple. “Don’t worry, you are in good hands!”

Daryl smiled back. Eric grabbed up his comb and scissors and immediately set to work. Tiny wisps of Daryl’s ends pattered onto the smock and the dark tiles on the floor that were made to look like hardwood. Some light electronica was playing softly in the background.

“Okay, now you know I’ve gotta ask, or they’ll take back my gay card. So, who is this mystery man?”

“His name is Paul,” Daryl said. “He’s Maggie Rhee and Beth Greene’s foster brother.”

“Oh really? From Greene Farms? Good deal. Fresh off the farm, I love it! What’s he look like?”

Daryl sighed. He started to speak and couldn’t find the words.

“Oh my god, Daryl,” Eric said, combing through his hair. “Are you flustered?”

Daryl didn’t want to nod his head too much and mess up Eric’s work. His father would have worn him out for ruining a haircut. He focused on Paul, and those eyes.

“He’s without a doubt _the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen_ ,” Daryl answered. “He’s got great skin and dark blonde hair with highlights in it and in his beard. Shit, I can’t even grow a beard like that. His eyes are like an icy blue, like some really awesome drink from Sonic. He looks a lot like Jesus; said his friends all call him that.” They both laughed out loud. Daryl continued to describe everything he could remember about Paul’s perfect body, his nice ass, his sweet personality—all of it—as Eric started cutting again and checking his guide.

“Where are you guys going?”

“ _Barrington House_ ,” answered Daryl.

“Nice!” said Eric. “Well, if this goes well, then Aaron and I really need to have you guys over sometime soon. I will even make fresh pasta and my two-day marinara.”

“Thanks, man,” Daryl said, genuinely appreciative of his friend. The man was also a pretty damn good cook. “That’d be really nice.”

“Okay, I hear you guys talking,” Jared said. “Can I come talk too? It gets lonely up there when your friends are so far away. I need some good vibes before Miss Mary gets here and I have to use sorcery to get that cheap-ass red dye job right.”

“Sure, man!” Daryl called back. “C’mon in.”

Jared walked in with a cold bottled water for Daryl, opened it, and placed it in his hand. 

“So, Daryl,” Eric explained, “was just telling me about this nice guy he met, and they have a date tonight.”

Daryl did his best not to give Jared away.

“That is fantastic! And his name is?” Jared asked.

“Paul,” Daryl said. He didn’t mind going back through some of the conversation if it let Eric feel like he got the information first and directly from the source.

“And apparently he has dreamy eyes, a killer smile, perfect dark blonde hair and beard, and an ass you could serve tea on,” Eric relayed. “They’re going to _Barrington House _tonight.”__

“Good choice! Where did you two meet?” Jared asked. Eric had started the blow dryer so they all had a bit of trouble hearing each other and had to speak up.

“Six Flags,” Daryl said. “Rick and Tara got a bunch of passes for law enforcement personnel. Paul came with Maggie and Glenn and Beth and paid for Flash passes for the whole bunch. Didn’t know ‘til we were scanning Rosita’s pass at the soda shop on the way out that he’d upgraded us all to season pass holders for the rest of the year.”

“Oh my god!” Jared exclaimed. “How expensive was that?”

“No idea,” Daryl shook his head. “But he said he made real good money, and he wanted to do it to thank Rick and Tara and everybody for including him.”

“Aww,” Eric moaned and put his hand on his chest. “That is so adorable!” He picked up a paddle brush and pulled Daryl’s hair out with it under the hot air to let it straighten and fall in silky sheets.

“What are you guys doing after?” Jared asked, grinning like a kid in an ice cream shop.

“Thought we’d go on a coffee walk. Talk some more. We got to talk a lot last night, but I wanna know everything. Everything.”

“Coffee walk is good! Just remember to take gum. Coffee breath does not make for a good impression,” Eric advised.

“Got that covered,” Daryl nodded. He’d been chewing more gum of late as he was trying to cut back on how much he had been smoking. Gum was a much cheaper habit.

“So what does he do?” asked Jared raising his voice.

“He’s an actor,” Daryl said.

“Oh really?” asked Jared.

“Yeah. He’s starting work on a show that's shooting here,” Daryl said. “Funny thing is, whatever show he’s on has a non-disclosure agreement, so he can’t tell anyone anything about it or his character.”

“Get out!” Eric said. “I wonder what show it is? What did you say his last name was? Greene?” He turned off the dryer.

“No, it’s Rovia,” Daryl said. “Paul Rovia!”

The hair dryer hit the floor. Eric quickly picked it up placed it in the cradle slot on the station. He and Jared stared at each other, then turned to look at Daryl. The mechanic felt like he was about to be questioned by the FBI.

“Stop. The. Fucking. Bus!” Jared said, mouth open in surprise.

“Okay, hold on a second. Daryl, darling,” Eric said, clarifying. “Did you say _Paul Rovia_?”

“Uh-huh,” Daryl nodded.

Jared, reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, opening his browser and typing quickly.

“Is this him?” Jared turned the phone to Daryl. There was a picture of Paul; he was about five years younger, with shorter hair and clean shaven, but the eyes and lips were unmistakable.

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded, a goofy half-smile breaking across his face. He reached for his own phone, took it out, and showed them a selfie of himself and Paul, heads together as they were sitting in a roller coaster car. “Here. This was us getting on the last night run of the _Mindbender_ yesterday.” The two men peered at the picture and gasped simultaneously.

“Oh my god!” Eric was about to jump out of his skin. “I. Am. Shook!”

“Okay, Daryl. Umm,” Jared started. “This guy is like _really good_. He’s been in several movies, and a couple of short-lived series. One of his character names that has stuck with him was a gay gangster called ‘Jesus.’ He’s the reason I grew my hair out!”

“Yeah, he said it was okay to call him Jesus,” Daryl said.

“And just between us three, my newest client is the casting director for _Death Ascendant_ , and she loves that Eric has her serving up LA hair on a Coweta County budget. Needless to say, she knows I’m a fan and gives me all the little tidbits she can without revealing anything specific.”

“Wait,” Daryl said, realization starting to set in. “Is that the big zombie show that you guys and Michonne and Rosita are all into?”

Eric nodded and continued. “So yeah, she said she couldn’t say who it was _exactly_ , but that there is a _big_ role that she had just filled and that a major character is being added to the show this month. She also said that this major character just happens to be _gay_ and will be played by an openly gay actor.”

“Well, it’s got to be Merlin,” Jared said. He pressed his palms together and bowed his head. “Dear god, please let it be Merlin!”

“YASSS!” screamed Eric, his left palm held out in adulation after which he inhaled and collected himself to continue his story. “Please let it be Merlin!”

“What?” Daryl was getting terribly confused. “Like the wizard?”

“Not exactly,” Jared tried to explain, sitting in the salon chair at his own station. “Merlin is this character in the _Death Ascendant_ comics, and the show is based on the comics, at least for the most part. Anyway, Merlin is this total badass who knows martial arts, is super-stealthy, and has lots of sleight of hand and magic tricks he can do.”

“It’s gotta be who she was hinting about,” Eric surmised. “He’s a huge character and like crazy important to the storylines.”

“And he’s fucking _hawt_!” said Jared, rubbing his right nipple through his extremely tight, black Versace t-shirt with the giant, gold Gorgon emblem and sticking his tongue out in a most vulgar fashion.

Both Eric and Daryl couldn’t help but cackle at the spectacle.

“And, you think it’s gonna be Paul playin’ Merlin?” Daryl asked. He was intrigued and his mind started to race.

“Well,” Eric added, “Merlin is actually a gay character, and Paul is an out actor.”

“This is a big deal,” said Jared, nodding.

“Hey, guys,” Daryl interrupted. “Y’all know you mean the world to me, and I don’t wanna say this the wrong way, but I don’t think I wanna hear any more about Paul or what all he’s done. I think I just wanna get to know him for myself. When I first met him, it turned me into a blithering idiot. I figured that Merle and Rick had been in cahoots with Maggie and Beth, and he was so beautiful I couldn’t think. But as the day went on, he made me real comfortable—so much so I felt good about just goin’ for it and asking him out.” He took each of their hands. “I just don’t wanna have too much extra runnin’ through my head tonight and fall back into being a nervous prick, ya know?”

The two men looked abashed. “Daryl, I’m sorry. We really didn’t mean to throw all this in your lap like a rabid pitbull, boo,” Jared said.

“We’re probably getting ahead of ourselves anyway,” Eric said trying to smooth things over.

“S’okay, guys. I ain’t mad at it. I’m still bringing him to your house for dinner, and Jared and Al have to be there too,” Daryl added. “That is, if he’s still seeing me by then.”

His friends’ faces lit up like Christmas trees.

“Change of plan,” Jared said, getting up, reaching over, grabbing the flat iron and a hair clip from his station, and stepping up behind Daryl. Eric nodded and turned Daryl’s chair away from the mirror. Jared quickly began to section Daryl’s hair. Daryl could feel the styling tool being run expertly through his locks. In less than 10 minutes, Jared put the iron back into the cradle on his station desk, dispensed a shining oil into his hands, and ran his fingers through the hair from roots to ends. All the while, Eric had picked up his clippers and comb, carefully trimming Daryl’s moustache and goatee to perfection.

“You’re ready for your close-up, Mr Dixon,” intoned Eric as he turned the chair back to face the mirror. Daryl’s mouth fell open. His hair looked fresh and stylish, just messy enough to not look styled, but styled enough to not look messy.

“Holy shit, y'all! You’re goddamn geniuses,” Daryl said. He reached up and stopped his hand, afraid he would mess up Eric’s work.

“Oh, you can touch it,” Jared advised. “Go ahead. Run your fingers through it. Don’t worry, it’ll fall right back into place.” Daryl did so. It was so shiny and felt so soft. He couldn’t ever remember it having felt like that. “If you don’t wash it, it should hold up pretty well for about two days. Your weekend do, boo!”

“Twenty bucks says he can’t resist touching it,” Eric wagered. He was definitely referring to Paul.

“I can’t take that bet,” said Daryl, shaking his head and enjoying the way his hair fell back into place. “Hell, I’m gonna put his hands in it my damn self! I don’t know what to say, guys.”

“Daryl, you usually look pretty good, even when you’re covered in grime from all day at the shop, but, boo, you are beat for the gods today!” Jared exclaimed. The two master stylists gave each other a high-five and a fierce snap.

“We got mad skillz, baby,” Eric said proudly. “Of course, it helps when you’ve got a good canvas!” Eric admitted, taking the smock off of Daryl and brushing off his neck and shoulders. Daryl stood up taking out his wallet.

“Merle already took care of that,” Jared reminded his friend. “Which is why his hair is looking like something Carol will let in her house now. Here’s a bag of goodies from us. Frankie said he mentioned these to you, which means if you don’t use them, he gets in trouble, and you wouldn’t want that.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, took out a fifty dollar bill, and tucked it into Eric’s apron. “Tipping is not a city in China,” the redneck reminded, laughing and pulling his friends into hugs. “Thank you guys. I mean it, you guys are the best!” He took the bag of face, body, and hair products with him.

“Go home and relax,” suggested Jared.

“And tomorrow,” Eric added, “We will expect a full report.”

Daryl huffed a laugh and smiled as he replied, “Sure thing.”

By the time he got home it was just after 4:00. He stripped and dumped his gym/spa clothes along with the work clothes from his gym bag into the washer to turn on later. Next, he went to his bathroom with the bag from the spa. He warmed a soft washcloth under the faucet and applied it gently to his face and body as warm as he could stand it. Then, he added some moisturizing skin protectant, used a conditioning lip balm—the same one that Tara swore by, he noted —and rubbed some serious lotion into his skin from head to toes. Ablutions completed, he padded into his room and looked around at the neat master bedroom. His house wasn’t much, just a small three-bedroom split-level house with a finished basement he had turned into a nice entertainment room. He immediately turned to the bed, stripped it down, and re-made it with fresh linens. He was scheduled to change the sheets tomorrow, but he thought it best to do so now—just in case.

Speaking of just in case scenarios, he started by picking out a nice, new pair of boxer briefs, a deep sapphire colored shirt, and a matching tie, all by Calvin Klein, thanks to Rosita. Next, he selected a dark gray vest, and a new pair of Levi’s™ Carol had given him when she’d hit the Independence Day sales at the Tanger Outlet Mall over in Locust Grove. They were tighter around his legs than he was used to, but when he looked in the mirror in his walk-in closet, he became a believer in the ass-hugging power of slim jeans. He finished off his ensemble with a distressed, dark brown leather belt and a pair of cognac colored Chelsea boots. Finally, he found the Prada cologne that Carl had picked out for him last Christmas and decided to give it a go along with the bracelet Rick and Michonne had given him, and the ornate silver ring he had bought on a trip to visit a bike show in Atlanta a few years back.

Everything was in place. After pulling on his new underwear, he walked into the kitchen and made himself a glass of ice water. Then he walked back to his office, opened his laptop, and checked his email. He responded to everything in his inbox until an IM from Merle popped up, telling him to stop working. He was actually offended for the nearly three seconds it took him to realize that Merle was still at work after hours, taking care of business like a responsible co-owner, like a big brother. He couldn’t be mad at that; therefore, he sent a quick thumbs-up emoji and logged out of his remote work connection.

After that, he went into the living room and lay down on the sofa, flipping on the television to watch Motocross for the next hour. During a commercial, he pulled up Paul’s address and put it into his navigator app. Out of nowhere it hit him.

“Shit!” he cursed. “Daryl, you fucking dumbass!”

He dialed Paul’s number.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang some more.

“C’mon man, pick up!” Daryl groaned.

The line connected. “You have reached the voice messaging system for 312 555 4644. At the tone, please leave your message. When you have finished recording, please hang up, or press # for more options.” ***BEEP***

“Paul, hey! Please call me back,” Daryl stammered. “I made a mistake on the time and wanted to call to see if you could meet me at another time—shit! I mean, if I could pick you up earlier. I gave the restaurant the wrong fucking time, and I’m worried we’ll lose our reservation. Just—please call me back. Uh, thanks.”

_Fucking idiot._

He called back and got the voicemail again. “This is Daryl, by the way. But you have my number so you’ll already know who this is and that I’m a fucking idiot. Shit.” He hung up.

_Kill me with a chainsaw._

Frustrated beyond belief, he sighed and looked at his phone, then decided that perhaps texting was the way to go. Half way through his explanation, his phone rang. It was Paul.

“Hey!” Daryl answered, trying not to sound as stressed as he was.

“Hey there!” came Paul’s voice. “I got your voicemails and was kinda worried you might be getting cold feet.”

“No! NO! NO!!” reassured Daryl. “God, no! But I have done something pretty stupid. I told the place to hold our reservation for 7:30, which is when I’m supposed to be picking you up.”

“Ah,” Paul intoned. “So, you’re admitting you’re not perfect?”

“Far from it,” Daryl affirmed. He could tell Paul was flirting with him, and he loved it. It was actually calming his nerves.

Paul’s response was low and throaty. “I find that incredibly attractive. I’m pretty sure I can be ready to go well before seven-thirty,” he said.

Daryl swallowed. “So how about I pick you up around seven instead?”

“Make it six-thirty and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Paul said.

“A’ight,” said Daryl. “His own tone had become low and deep. He could feel heat beginning to tingle at his groin.

“I’ll show you my new place, such as it is,” Paul teased.

“Can’t wait,” Daryl replied.

“See you soon.”

“Sounds good,” Daryl sighed.

“Bye for now.”

“Bye,” Daryl answered, then hung up. He was well on his way to hard, and this was just from the man’s voice on the damn phone. 

_I’m so fucked._

Daryl peeked at the time on his phone as he hooked it up to the charger cable in the living room. It was 5:20. He dashed back into his room and started putting on the outfit he’d picked out. By the time he was done and had touched up his hair, it was 5:40. He picked up the keys to his truck, snagged his phone, and headed to the garage door, punching the code to set the security system. Once in the truck, he turned on the navigator and put in Paul’s address. The cheerful voice had him well on his way in no time. 

The place was only about 15 minutes away from Daryl’s house. He navigated the new roundabout and turned on Highway 74 South. Before long, he turned off onto a small road he probably would have missed if the navigator app hadn’t alerted him. The houses were older nearer the highway; however, there was a newer addition to the road farther back. Six of seven houses in the neighborhood appeared to be fairly new. At the far back end of the road, and tucked away down a long driveway, was a house that looked to be about thirty years old. It was almost completely obscured by foliage along the road.

Daryl pulled up behind a metallic red Mazda-6 and parked. He got out of the vehicle and walked up to the garage door. He saw a figure moving inside through the glass on the garage door, and it was opened before he could ring the doorbell. There stood Paul in a tight, dark plum, button-up shirt with black jeans and dark red boots. The actor’s hair was partially pulled back in a small bun, leaving the rest to fall naturally.

“Damn!” Paul said. “You look incredible, Daryl!” The smile on Paul’s face.

“You should see yourself,” the mechanic countered.

“C’mon in,” Paul beckoned. “I take it you found it okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “Wasn’t no problem at all.”

“Well, welcome!” Paul said, holding out his arms. Daryl smiled back, stepped up the last step, and crossed the threshold into Paul’s arms, feeling one slip behind his shoulder, the other around his waist. He mirrored the exchange.

_Dear god, this feels fucking fantastic! And he smells awesome too._

“Mmm,” Paul hummed in contentment before easing apart. “Let me show you around.”

“Lead on,” Daryl said, smiling.

The house was humongous! To the right was a hall that appeared to lead to a bathroom with shower and a utility room with a washer, dryer, and standing freezer. The large kitchen had a high ceiling with overhead fluorescent tube lights. An island station was in the center. The breakfast nook had a bay window that looked out over the back patio. Next, they entered a large family room which was dominated by an exposed brick wall in which there was a large fireplace. On either side, glass French doors opened into a sun room with lots of windows and white wicker furniture. Back beyond the living room, there was a formal dining room, painted in early 1990s hunter green and maroon, with a huge bay window that looked out over the front yard. The room was connected to the formal living room which had celery green carpet, faux gold and brass fixtures and accents, and furniture from the late 1970s. Off the main hall was a guest bathroom and two bedrooms. Upstairs was a similar hall off which were another guest bedroom, a bathroom, and a massive master bedroom with private bath and walk-in closet. The master bath had the busiest flowery, yellow striped wallpaper Daryl had ever seen. They both started laughing at it.

The place was big, but the interior was very outdated in décor and function. It did, however, have nice, private, well-kept yards, a swimming pool, a hot tub, and a tall privacy fence. A pool house at the back of the patio could also serve as a guest apartment.

“Did the Brady Bunch used to live here?” Daryl joked.

“I know, right?” Paul laughed. “I don’t need the room; it’s actually the privacy I’m kinda going for.” Paul walked back into the kitchen with Daryl following right behind and turned at the island as the brawny man stepped up closer to lean back next to him, their shoulders touching.

“So,” Paul asked. “What do you think about my new place? And yes, please be brutally honest.”

Daryl tilted his head and licked his lips. “Well, I get the feelin’ it’s not exactly your particular style.”

“What gave it away?” laughed Paul. “That hideous wallpaper in the master bath or the green and burgundy motif in the dining room?”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded and huffed a laugh of his own. “1992 called. They want their color scheme back.”

Paul turned toward Daryl, snickering as he dropped his forehead to rest on the strapping man’s collarbone. When he raised his head, he was looking up at Daryl’s hair.

“Oh my god,” Paul huffed. “Your hair looks killer!”

Daryl licked his lips. “You can touch it if you want. You won’t hurt it.”

Paul looked surprised. “Really?” Daryl nodded. Paul reached a hand up and ran his fingers through the dark, soft tresses.

“I’m gonna give you two hours to stop that,” Daryl jibed, luxuriating in the warmth of Paul’s fingers in his hair, just touching him.

Paul smiled and chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl smiled back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll definitely come back to it so that I don’t use up all my time too early this evening,” Paul countered, his fingers still running through Daryl’s hair, amazed as it fell perfectly back into place.

“My friends, Eric and Jared, gave me a trim and style,” Daryl explained. “They tamed the rat’s nest. I was a little worried when the iron thingy came clamping down next to my ear.”

“You look hot,” Paul said, grinning mischievously, stepping back, and clasping his hands together in front of his chest in order to keep them to himself and under control. “Definitely gonna need to try to keep my hands to myself.”

Daryl reached up and caught Paul’s hands, pulling them closer, holding them between his own large palms, and shaking his head. “Nah,” he explained. “You got my permission. I’m usually kinda cautious about folks touching me; old habits from a bad childhood.”

Paul looked afraid as if he’d done something wrong. Daryl stepped up and placed the actor’s hands against his barrel-wide chest. “I don’t mind your hands. Just the opposite. I _like_ ‘em. I like ‘em a whole lot.”

Paul looked relieved, his beautiful smile returning to full strength. “I can understand that completely, and you can touch me back.”

“Now,” Daryl said, nodding and taking Paul in completely in a new light. They had opened themselves up to each other, and that was unexpected, but damn it felt incredibly good. Exciting. Comfortable. Right.

“I reckon we better get on the road before we lose out on our reservation.”

“I will show my ass,” Daryl declared.

“Oh, it’ll be on!” Paul snickered. He grabbed his keys from a bowl on the table and set his alarm. They pair hopped into Daryl’s truck and made their way to _Barrington House_.

They found parking and actually arrived early. Paul popped on a pair of shades and walked along to the restaurant entrance with Daryl. The restaurant was busy but not overcrowded. Patrons were being shifted from the foyer to the bar to await their tables. A young man with warm brown skin, tight corn row braids in a neat man-bun, and stylish, black-frame glasses stood behind the host station, greeting guests and providing direction to wait staff.

Daryl approached the podium, and the young man looked up and smiled. “Good evening. Welcome to Barrington. Do you have a reservation?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, Dixon, for seven-thirty? Are you Heath?”

“Yes sir, I am. Your table will be ready in about ten minutes, Mr. Dixon,” Heath said. “Would you like to wait at the bar?”

Paul nodded emphatically as if to say “Hell yeah! Drinks!” Daryl huffed a laugh and turned back to Heath. “Yeah, that’d be great,” Daryl agreed.

They followed Heath to the bar and got beers to start. Dark wood floors, exposed brick, and warm lighting from elegant chandeliers and floor to ceiling windows made the dining room feel open and inviting. By the time they were seated, they had a nice table overlooking the street outside. Paul took off his shades and tucked them away. Daryl knew it wasn’t too bright inside, and the man had no reason to hide those eyes.

“You worried you’ll be seen?” Daryl asked.

Paul looked afraid again. He immediately reach over and took the mechanic’s hand.

“It’s not in any way about being out with you,” Paul assured him. “It’s just a habit, hiding out. Some of the more unscrupulous members of the media can be downright ruthless.” He looked down at his lap for a moment, then returned his gaze. “I want to go out with you, but I don’t want anyone to throw your life into a tabloid because of me.”

“That’s why you’re out in the house that time forgot,” Daryl grinned back. “You’re being incognito.”

Paul smiled and chuckled. “You know it. Just know what you might be in for.”

The waiter arrived and took their orders. Daryl decided to try the grilled pork chops and scalloped potatoes while Paul enjoyed a stuffed chicken breast and pasta al formaggio. Neither could resist trying a bite or two from the other’s plate. Throughout the dinner, the conversation never lulled: they genuinely laughed at each other’s comments; they found tons of common interests like music and books; they acknowledged how nice it was of their family to set them up. Everything was fitting together in the best way. After splitting a dark chocolate torte, Daryl paid the check, and the two decided to walk along the park square and the main avenue. Paul took Daryl’s hand and let the tall hunter lead. Daryl felt like he was on Cloud 9. He’d never been so comfortable with displaying his affection for another person, not even to Merle. They stopped by the fountain, and Paul made him sit still while he took a couple of pictures and selfies to send to Beth and Maggie.

At _The Mean Bean_ , they stopped in to catch late night iced coffees. Daryl introduced Paul to Tyreese and Sasha Williams, the brother/sister team who owned the place, which was usually just a breakfast, brunch, and lunch venue. The café apparently didn’t stay open this late, but the owners were quick to let Paul know that they loved their favorite mechanic who just happened to have helped get Sasha’s fiancé, Bob, get onboard with the highway road crew thanks to a recommendation to the DOT Director for the county. It was good to know folks.

Afterwards, they sauntered around, sipping and chatting: learning that Daryl loved the color green and Paul loved blue; finding out that Daryl had originally wanted to be a game warden and Paul a doctor; discovering that they had pretty eclectic tastes in music, from modern jazz to 80s pop to metal; laughing at the fact that Daryl loved _Ape and Essence_ because of the orgy scenes and Paul loved almost everything Stephen King had ever typed up; appreciating that Khan is the best Star Trek villain ever and midichlorians were an even worse idea than Jar-Jar Binks. And while they didn’t agree on everything, they at least understood each other’s stance.

“So, you like huntin’?” Daryl asked, remembering the offer from yesterday.

“I do,” Paul answered. “But I only kill what I’m willing to dress and eat.”

“Oh, that’s a definite,” Daryl assured. “Favorite things?”

“Depends,” Paul answered. “Deer, boar, and turkey are a patience game. Pheasant, dove, and quail, are more fun.”

“You like to talk and walk, you mean,” Daryl figured. They both laughed.

“Yep,” Paul admitted. “Plus, there are the bird dogs. Daddy has had some champions.”

“I like me some quail,” Daryl admitted. “Better than squirrel.”

“Oh, god!” Paul huffed. “Squirrels are like eating cat. They’re really not my thing.”

Daryl shrugged. “I’ll get you there.”

“I just bet you will,” Paul answered. The double-entendre was not lost on Daryl, whose face split in a wicked grin as Paul continued onto the next topic. “Ever been to Los Angeles?”

Daryl shook his head. “I ain’t ever left Georgia.”

“No time like the present, then. Would you be interested in going with me next month? I have to do some television promo spots and interviews. It would mean a trip to New York as well. We could see some of the sites on each coast.”

“I guess I could try and find tickets,” Daryl said, trying to guess how much a hotel room in New York City would run.

“The trip is paid for,” Paul said. “Everything for two people. It’s already booked by the production company for the show.”

Daryl furrowed his brow suspiciously. “How did they know you’d have someone with you?”

“Honestly, I called and asked them today,” he said stopping and looking at Daryl. “Just in case.”

“Wow,” Daryl said.

“It can take some getting used to,” Paul said, his brow furrowed in concern.

Daryl looked into those perfect orbs of icy blue. This was one of those now or never moments.

“Merle and my team can handle the shop while I’m jet-setting,” Daryl said, grinning.

Paul’s smile was glorious.They turned to cross the street and walk back down the opposite side, fingers interlaced as Paul asked about the places Daryl might like to visit on the trip. Daryl could tell the man was making mental notes. They passed the courthouse and Daryl noted a car he had serviced back on Tuesday belonging to his lawyer, Andrea Holton.

“So, I have a serious question, and you can tell me it’s none of my business,” Paul said as they walked along. Daryl arched an eyebrow and nodded his consent. “How is it you haven’t been scooped up already?”

“I dunno,” Daryl shrugged. “I guess I was just late to the party. Never saw much of anybody—at least not on an on-going basis—after the time my old man caught me and my best friend in high school. We thought we was in love. Instead of going to prom, we went camping and planned to lose our virginity to each other.” Daryl inhaled deeply and let it out as if purging an old memory. “He caught us just after while we were laying in each other’s arms. Almost killed my friend. Beat the tar outta me with a razor strop. The edges of a strop can cut skin. So, he scarred me up pretty bad, and he ran off my boyfriend.”

Paul stopped and took Daryl’s face in his hands, pulling him down to look into his eyes. The beautiful man’s misty blue eyes were wet, threatening tears. Daryl swallowed. This was something he never talked about, and they hadn’t had anything more than a beer and two glasses of wine a piece at the restaurant, but he felt like he could say it to Paul. He just hoped it wouldn’t frighten the perfect man away.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl” Paul whispered. He stroked Daryl’s gorgeous face. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Daryl said, shaking his head. “I want you to know. I’ve made my way. You met Rick.”

“The sheriff, right?” Paul said.

“Yeah,” Daryl confirmed. “He was just a new deputy then. Got a call about my situation, came over, and arrested my father. Got me some help. He’s a brother to me as much as Merle is.”

Paul just waited and let the man speak.

“My social worker from back then is now Merle’s girlfriend,” Daryl huffed. “She got me a good therapist to help me work on my anger issues.” He shrugged. “Help me be comfortable with being touched again.”

They started walking along again. Daryl turned them at a crossroad, walking up toward Eric' and Jared’s shop.

“I guess I just hadn’t been ready to be scooped up yet. Hadn’t figured anybody would want anything long-term once they saw how cut up I am physically or figured out how screwed up I am mentally,” Daryl admitted. “And it’s okay that you asked. You need to know what you’re getting’ into too, Paul.”

“I’m not afraid,” Paul declared. ‘I mean it.” Daryl stopped them in their tracks and looked into Paul’s eyes. Truth, not platitude. He nodded back, feeling so much better as they began to walk again.

“How ‘bout you?” Daryl posed. “What’s got you out with a redneck mechanic in East Bum-Fuck, Georgia?”

Paul smiled and huffed a laugh. “In the first place, my redneck is hot.”

“Pfft,” Daryl scoffed; he was feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Ain’t hot.”

“I’ve lived in LA. Believe me, I know hot,” Paul challenged. “Second, he is considerate. He cares about strangers enough to put himself in harm’s way. Just imagine what he does for his family and friends?

“Stop,” Daryl groused half-heartedly.

“I’m serious,” Paul continued. “And finally, I’m single by choice. I dated a guy for a year and a half, then found out he was using me as ‘the other man.’”

“What?” Daryl asked, shocked.

“Oh, yeah,” Paul said, disgusted. “His name was Alex, and he ended up using me, my money, my fame—such as it was—all to make himself feel important. All this went on until his _boyfriend_ called me up. Needless to say, I broke up with him, and in retaliation, he sold information about me to a couple of TV tabloids. I found out later he was trying to use my connections to get himself into the business. That was almost three years ago.”

Daryl reached over and put his massive arm around Paul’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, comforting him. He dropped his lips next to Paul’s ear and whispered.

“Want me to kick his ass?” He was only half-kidding.

“Yes,” Paul answered, also only half-kidding, a smirk of amusement playing across his face. The young man sighed. “I suppose I should thank him; in some weird, twisted way it turned out some of the negative publicity I got was still free press, and my agent said it actually got me noticed for other projects. Turns out it was a good thing that I never tried to hide being gay.”

Paul shook Daryl's arm. “And so we’re clear from the start: I am very happy to be out on a date with you, Daryl. I’m having a blast, even talking about harsh things and damaged pasts. They just seem to flow easily. You’re the first person I’ve been interested in in quite a while,” Paul said squeezing Daryl's hand. “Now, I think you and I really need to lighten this mood. What do ya say?”

“Okay,” Daryl said, suddenly pulling the man to face him. He took Paul’s face in his hands and leaned in to slot their lips together.

Paul pressed back into the kiss; it was warm and delicious, mouths sucking slightly at each other until he parted his lips and invited Daryl’s tongue to play with his own. They parted lips but continued to nuzzle at each other’s nose, foreheads together, breath warm and beckoning.

“Too soon?” Daryl asked, worried that he may have just fucked this up to be damned. “Are we going too fast?”

Paul leaned back and reached up to run his fingertips through Daryl’s hair, pulling it away from his eyes as he shook his head.

“Daryl, we are both over 30,” Paul reassured, his voice was breathy and sexy. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I also don’t want to waste a single minute of our time together; I want to find out everything about you, including how well you kiss.” He paused before adding, "And finding out if you like how I kiss you."

Daryl shuddered a breath. Paul’s next words were in a whisper that sent a shockwave directly to his groin.

“Now, show me where the best place is around here for us to make out and cuddle together in that butch-ass truck of yours, listening to our favorite music, until the sun comes up and I take you to breakfast.”

“I know just the place,” Daryl said, grinning. _Law of Averages_ Rick says.

The pair strolled hand-in-hand back to the street near the restaurant where Daryl had parked. As he opened the passenger door for Paul, Daryl asked, “Hey! Do you like motorcycles?”

Paul turned to face him, a very happy smile on his face. “Well, I own a _Royal Enfield_ , but I’d love to have a _Triumph_ —“

Daryl yanked the man over for the deepest and most erotic kiss of his life. They could barely make out the applause and whistles from passersby before dashing into the truck and taking off together.


	3. Heartline Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl takes Jesus out to enjoy a night under the stars, sharing tears and secrets, exploring their similarities and differences, and enjoying each other immensely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading; I hope you are still enjoying the story, and I appreciate all of your comments and kudos!

The Ford F-250 pick-up pulled up to the drive-thru window of _Woodbury Wine & Spirits_. The service window slid open, and a man in his mid-40s leaned out. He had sharp, handsome features. His hair was combed and parted on the left side; it was a rich, medium brown, now with heavy gray and silver at the temples. His left eye was a gentle sky blue. His right was covered in a braided, black eye patch. At his right hip was a holstered pistol. On seeing Daryl, Phillip Blake’s demeanor changed from wary shop keeper at 11:00 PM to delighted buddy. 

“Evening, Daryl!” Phillip called out as the driver side window rolled down. He looked directly over at Paul, grinning. “I heard you two was out having a big night tonight. Oh my god, look-a-yonder at that long hair! Must be Old Home Week! Hollywood has come home to Y’ally-wood!” His laugh was rich and cheerful.

Paul gasped as he caught sight of the store owner. “Oh, wow! Hey there!” Daryl looked back and forth between the two. Paul unbuckled his seatbelt, hopped out of the truck, and ran around the front to the window to greet the owner. 

“Hey, Daryl,” Phillip grinned, shaking the mechanic’s hand and enjoying the confusion on the man’s face.

“Phillip! It’s been forever! So good to see you!” Paul exclaimed as he ran up to the window and shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t think you’d be working on a Friday night.”

“Yeah, well,” Phillip explained. “The fella who had this shift quit, so I have to fill in until I can replace him. If I don’t do it soon, my new wife will have me sleeping out in the dog house. How’re your folks?”

“They’re doing really well,” Paul nodded. He looked back and noticed Daryl, who was just staring back and blinking. “I’m sorry. Daryl Dixon, Phillip Blake, but I’m guessing you guys already know each other. Phillip and our family go way back. Are you guys coming to Labor Day?”

“That’s the plan,” Phillip replied jovially.

“So who ratted us out,” asked Paul, reaching back into the window and taking Daryl’s hand. “My money’s on Glenn. He’s adorable, but he can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Nope,” Phillip said, shaking his head in amusement. “Haven’t seen the man.”

Paul jogged back around the truck and got back in. Daryl took his hand again once he had fastened his seatbelt, then he looked back at Phillip. 

“How ‘bout the Mouth-of-the-South?” Daryl groused.

Phillip cackled. “Wasn’t Merle either, although he did swing through as usual right after he closed up shop.”

“Got any other suspects?” Paul asked.

Daryl nodded. “Yep. Ricky Dicky Doo Dah Grimes,” he concluded. He couldn’t help but shake his head and crack a half-smile at his brother’s antics. “’Tween him and Merle, we don’t need a town crier.”

“Son, you know damn well you can’t fuck nobody in this little piss-ant town and folks not know about it in record time,” Phillip jibed. Both men huffed and blushed furiously. Phillip just laughed heartily at the both of them. “Damn, y’all turned red in a hurry! You fellas know we love ya, right?”

The duo conveyed their appreciation, and Phillip asked, “Now, what can I get y’all?”

“A six-pack of Coors in bottles, two waters, and a pack of Morley’s, please sir,” Daryl replied. “Oh, and a pack of cinnamon gum!”

“I gotcha, guys,” Phillip said. He closed the window and stepped away for a few seconds.

Daryl thought about something. “Oh shit! Is Coors okay? I didn’t even think to ask like a dumbass! You want Heineken or Killian’s or—!“

In a flash, Paul had unbuckled the seatbelt again and had his mouth pressed against Daryl’s. When he broke the kiss he said, “Coors is fine. I’m not a beer snob.” Daryl swallowed hard. He started to bring his thumbnail to his mouth, but his hand was held comfortably by Paul’s, the actor’s thumb playing over the very digit he’d started to gnaw at nervously. Paul kissed him again, chastely, just at the beauty mark above his mustache. “And you are perfect.” He sat back and put his seatbelt back on. Daryl felt a real smile break open on his face.

_Holy god, I’m fucked._

Phillip returned with the beer, the water bottles, the smokes, some gum, and a small bag of ice he put into a large, brown grocery bag with the store’s logo. “You got your cooler in the back?”

“Aww, yeah, man. Thanks!’ Daryl said, taking the brown bag Phillip handed over to him. “How much do I owe you?”

“Not today, son,” Phillip declared, shaking his head adamantly. “Your money ain’t no good ‘round here tonight.” He pushed Daryl’s outstretched hand with the debit card away.

“Nah, naw, man—“ Daryl protested to no avail. “C’mon, Phillip.”

“Bye!” Phillip waved as he shut the window, waving behind the glass. Another car had pulled in and was now waiting behind Daryl’s truck. 

Daryl quickly put away his card, stowed his wallet in the seat console compartment, and drove back out onto the county highway. 

“Daddy told me that Mr Phillip is seriously thinking about running for mayor, then maybe even governor,” Paul said.

“I’d vote for him,” Daryl said, thoughtfully. “He’s a good businessman—when he ain’t given away freebies to movie stars.” Paul gave him a playful side-eye. “But, my litmus test for him is that Andrea married him. She’s my lawyer. She don’t put up with bullshit.” 

“I couldn’t believe it when Maggie told me about the accident. His wife and daughter? Losing an eye?” Paul shook his head. 

“Yeah,” Daryl commiserated. “He could’ve let something like that make him bitter or gone completely off the rails with heads in aquariums in the basement or some such shit. But he picked up the pieces of his life and moved on. The man is a total tank. Still plays poker with Merle and Rick and the guys every other Thursday.”

“Do you play too?” Paul asked.

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “If I’m feeling lucky.”

He handed Paul his phone and the end of the aux cable. “You wanna find us some music?” Daryl asked. 

“Ooh, yes!” Paul said, smiling. “I can make that happen.”

Daryl showed Paul how to unlock his phone. He never had anything super personal in it, so it didn’t worry him that Paul was in it. 

“Got any preferences?”

“No shit-kicker country. That’s Rick’s twisted soul, not mine,” Daryl joked.

The music faded in.

“Yes!!!” Daryl exclaimed, and turned up the volume as the guitar intro from _Dirty Boots_ by Sonic Youth began to rock the vehicle’s speakers. Paul knew every word. A thunderbolt ripped through Daryl Dixon’s very soul, and it was at that precise moment he suddenly realized that the roller coaster that was his meeting Paul Rovia was starting its first descent.

King County Industrial Way turned off Rockaway Road about four miles outside of town and ran past the country club and golf course. Just two miles further and down on the left was Skyline Avenue, a dead end street about three quarters of a mile long that ended at what made do for an airport in King County. Daryl eased past the main building and maneuvered his vehicle to the best morning vantage point, pulling across three empty parking spaces with impunity born from the fact that there wasn’t a single car in site. Even the airport manager’s county vehicle was gone, meaning there were no scheduled flights in for tonight. The blue and white beacon rotated behind them on a tower frame next to the county building and cut a swath of light through the darkness every few seconds. Perhaps “airport” was a rather generous term for the field with a landing strip, two hangar bays, and a fueling station, at least in Daryl’s humble opinion. Even though he had never been on a plane, he had been to Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. Regardless, the open field had a spectacular view of the glorious summer sunrise that would be coming up before them in a few hours. 

Daryl shut off the engine and beckoned for Paul to hand him the bag. Paul released his seatbelt and reached down to pick up the bag and pass it over. Daryl slid out of the truck, stepped to the truck-bed, and reached down just below the gleaming, diamond plate stainless steel mounted toolbox, pulling out a small blue cooler with a white lid and handle. He opened it up, put in four of the six beers, poured the ice in over them, and closed the top. Finally, he stepped to the back, lowered the tailgate, and beckoned Paul to join him. He twisted off the caps on the two remaining bottles and handed one to Paul.

“Cheers,” he said, clinking the glass bottles and turning his up. 

“Back at you,” Paul replied, sitting up on the tailgate. 

The truck was slightly elevated, and their legs dangled. The buzzing of insects and the low radio from the cab were the only other sounds. 

“So is this where you bring all your dates?” Paul joked.

“Pfft! Whatever,” Daryl scoffed and slipped off the tailgate. He looked back at Paul, who was looking like he may have said the wrong thing, a jest backfiring. Paul started to hop down to the ground, but Daryl moved up to put his hands on the beautiful man’s chest before he could go anywhere. “Hold up. This place is for you. Just wait here and nurse that beer for me.”

Paul’s eyebrows rose. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“Just hold on, okay?” Daryl asked. He leaned in and kissed Paul softly. He moved away to the rear passenger side of the crew cab and opened the door. After a second or two, he closed the door and returned with a blanket, tossing it over the rough, black bed liner in the truck. Then, he climbed back up onto the tailgate and up into the cargo bed, lying back on the blanket with one massive arm behind his head. He looked down at Paul and gestured for him to join him. Paul was lying next to him before he could blink twice. The night was brilliant with stars, clear and bright in the cloudless sky. The dusty band of the Milky Way stretched out across the limitless canopy.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Paul stated. “I’ve missed it. I could so rarely see the stars out in LA. The ones we had there were more of the two-legged variety.”

“I love looking at the stars,” Daryl confessed. “I’ve read up on navigation and constellations. You see those three stars? My Uncle Jess called those the Old Man’s Walking Stick. They’re part of Orion. That’s his belt. There’s his head. Those are his knees and feet.”

“I see it,” said Paul. “I really wanted to take Astronomy but didn’t have the chance in college.”

“I took it in school,” Daryl explained. “Got my associate’s in business. Took Astronomy as a science. Lotta fucking math,” he said, chuckling. 

Paul chuckled. “Not my strong suit. I can do it, but I didn’t care for it. Sounds like your Uncle Jess was really cool.”

“Yeah,” Daryl mused. “He was. Miss him. He died a few years back. He taught me everything I know about hunting and tracking. Took it on himself to do it when he found out I’d been lost in the woods for over a week. I ran off one time when Daddy was in a drunken rage. Thought he was gonna kill us, and Merle told me to keep running. I was nine.” Paul looked shocked. “Learned to eat raw squirrel.”

“Daryl, that’s—“

“I’m good,” Daryl reassured. “Also learned not to wipe my ass with poison oak.” They both chuckled, Paul more nervously. “It’s okay now. I got through it all, and Uncle Jess taught me how to read. That was cheap entertainment when you didn’t have a TV.”

“I’m a _big_ fan of reading: classics, mysteries, horror, fantasy, science fiction. I dig poetry too. Who’re your favorites?”

“I like Poe,” Daryl said.

“Of course! He’s fantastic but really tragic,” said Paul. “Then again, so is Anne Sexton. She’s one of my favorites.”

“Don’t know her,” Daryl admitted.

“She had a very rough life, a horrible upbringing, suffered from mental illness, and eventually succumbed to it,” Paul said softly. “But her poetry was so evocative. I guess that’s why I like her; I feel like we share something. Things weren’t always good before my family.”

“You know you can tell me,” Daryl said. He had leaned back up, his free hand finding Paul’s again. “You don’t gotta, but I’m just saying, if you want to. If you _need_ to.”

“I don’t mind,” Paul said. He turned his head and kissed Daryl’s shoulder. “I grew up in a group home. My parents apparently never met a high they didn’t like. They overdosed when I was almost three. A hotel manager found me the next morning, just a squalling child with parents who wouldn’t wake up. Neither of them had any living relatives who were willing or able to take me in. Maybe because I was born to junkies, but I was smaller than most of the other kids, and I got picked on a lot. As a result I was angry, rebellious, and closed off; I was in trouble most of the time, or I got blamed for trouble even when I didn’t cause it. My reputation preceded me. If people got close, I tried to reject them before they could do it to me. I learned to assume that they’d be going away eventually, so nothing mattered. Finally, I found an opportunity to change all that by taking martial arts. I had a wonderful Sensei who showed me how to believe in myself. His training gave me the ability to defend myself. It helped me develop control of my reactions to things, and it gave me the confidence not to have to get physical. I no longer felt like a prisoner of my own making.” He took a moment. Daryl could tell that this story was something he needed to share with him. He wanted to know everything about Paul, even his pain. 

“I had had two other foster families. Neither were very good to me or the other foster kids, but they didn’t molest me or anything; instead, one was neglectful and the other physically abusive—or at least it was until I stood up to the bitch and ended up cracking her sternum. Needless to say, both ended up with me back in a home. They both just wanted the check that came in every month as a result of my being there.” Paul’s words weren’t bitter or harsh, just flat and apathetic to the subjects about whom he spoke. “It wasn’t until the Greene’s took me in that I learned what family really meant. I had real parents and real siblings.” Paul sniffed. Daryl rolled up onto his left side, looking down at the actor’s beautiful features. He reached over and wiped a tear from Paul’s cheek, then leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“It’s okay,” Daryl whispered. “I had to learn that too.”

“I feel bad that I told Hershel and Annette that I didn’t think I was ready to be fully adopted by them. I was still dealing with my abandonment issues, and finally I was all grown up and it was too late. I hope I never hurt them. I feel like I subjected them to the very pain that I was trying to avoid,” he said. He turned to cry quietly into Daryl’s chest as the hunter reached over to hold him, rubbing small circles on his back. “Oh god! Wow. I’m really making a great first impression on our date.” 

“It’s okay, Paul,” the big man murmured, doing his best to sooth this soul next to him. “I’m right here. I got you. Hey, you. You were just a kid. You could only go with what you knew at the time. They knew that.” He kissed the top of Paul’s head and spoke softly into the young man’s hair. “You know for a fact that they love you, and you love them too, or else you wouldn’t feel like this now.” For the next few minutes, they lay together in silence in the back of Daryl’s truck until Paul felt better. They sat up, collected their beers from the tailgate, and finished them. Daryl took the empty bottles and dropped them into the bag in the back. He opened the cooler, took out two more beers, and handed one to Paul. The young man accepted and smiled ruefully.

“C’mere,” Daryl instructed. “Let’s walk around.” Paul got down out of the truck. They opened their new beers and walked along hand in hand out onto the grass and found the paved tarmac. 

Daryl pulled out a cigarette. “You mind?” he asked.

“No,” Paul said. “In fact, I sometimes have one when I’m drinking. And now, seems like the perfect moment, if you care to share.”

Daryl smirked and tapped out a smoke. Paul took it. When Daryl had his own between his lips, he reached in his pocket and withdrew a lighter. The flame illuminated them both in a soft orange glow as they lit their cigarettes, and walked along slowly.

“My friend, Carol,” Daryl started. He took a drag and exhaled. “She started working my case years ago. When she felt she had gotten too involved, she transferred my file over to another guy, but she still looked after me. She knew Rick from her job. They both kept on my ass whether I liked it or not. Never had a friend like her before.”

“Merle’s girlfriend?” Paul asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “I reckon someday soon he’s gonna ask her to marry him. He’ll never admit it, but I know he’s saving up for a ring, a nice wedding, a big honeymoon to Hawaii.”

“That’ll be nice,” Paul smiled back, taking a drag on his own smoke.

“She’s gonna fall in love with you,” Daryl stated. Paul smiled back. Daryl was sure he’d made the guy blush.

“You really think so?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, I do” Daryl confirmed. 

They walked along in silence to the end of the tarmac and back, talking about exactly how long it might take Merle to pop the question and how long it had taken Rick and Michonne to get together once they realized their feelings for one another. When they got back to the truck and Daryl put their second round of empty bottles into the bag, he walked back around to the tailgate, pulled Paul up next to him, and lifted him up, gently seating him on the tailgate, knees apart with Daryl filling the space. The hunter’s hands came up to cradle Paul’s face, and they kissed deep and slow. Paul’s arms were wrapped lovingly around Daryl’s waist.

“Paul,” said Daryl, coming up from the kiss and resting their foreheads together. “I ain’t never, ever felt like this over anybody, and I ain’t just sayin’ that.”

Paul exhaled with relief as he pulled Daryl in closer. “I know what you mean. I could barely sleep last night, thinking about being out with you again. I can be myself with you. I am comfortable and excited all at once.” He snickered a little. “Emphasis on excited.” Daryl huffed a laugh and kissed him again.

“Yeah,” Daryl admitted, his voice a raspy whisper. “You have a rather ‘steely’ influence on me too. Feel like I’m fucking fourteen again.”

“Good to know I have that effect,” Paul said playfully, sliding further back into the truck bed and back onto the blanket. He arched an eyebrow, patted the spot next to himself, and then crooked a finger at Daryl, inviting him to come on in. The gorgeous man looked like the cat who ate the canary, sly and mischievous. Daryl didn’t have to be asked twice.

They had no idea how long they had made out. The kisses burned hearts and seared souls. Hands rubbed and squeezed playfully, promising more to come. Tongues met with wild abandon, a precursor to how they would be used upon each other. Hips ground together, and laughter broke out when the shocks began to squeak at their heated motion. 

They lay back down, and Daryl leaned up on his left side to look down at Paul. The handsome hunter had something to say, something he felt he owed Paul who had shared some much of himself.

“Carol told me that you gotta let yourself feel things, and I do now. I know it ain’t good for me not too. Left me with burns on my hands and fucked up dreams. I’m real glad you can talk to me about your past. I wanna tell you the rest of mine,” the hunter explained. “When I was eight, my mama died in a house fire.”

“Oh, Daryl,” Paul’s face scrunched up. He reached up and pulled Daryl’s head down to rest on his chest, the top of the handsome mechanic’s head just under Pauls’ chin. 

“She liked her wine and her smokes,” Daryl explained. “I reckon she got so drunk one day, she just fell asleep in bed with a lit cigarette. Me and Merle lost a lot that day.” 

Paul listened and stroked the back of Daryl’s neck, kissing his head and conveying security in the closeness.

“After that, our Daddy hit the bottle,” the handsome mechanic explained. “Meth and crack came next, and pills, if he could get ‘em. Wasn’t too picky. He’d drink or use whatever let him deal with the shit that was our life. And when he got to a boiling point, he exploded, first on Merle, and when he left, that just left me. Merle ran off to the military. Came home after Desert Storm, but he never felt whole. I know how that goes ‘cause for a while I was right there with him, following him around whenever he wasn’t in jail. Merle’s tried to destroy himself almost step for step in Daddy’s footprints—letting it eat him alive from the inside all these years; he feels like what Daddy did to me is on him. It ain’t.” Daryl reached an arm across Paul and held him close. He sniffed twice and shuddered, his own hot tears running down to wet Paul’s plum colored shirt. 

“Merle had to get out, and I ain’t mad at him,” Daryl declared. “That wretched bastard did what he did to us all own his own. Died of an aneurysm while he was still in the joint. Went to see him a couple of times at holidays. Never even said he was sorry, or that he was proud of Merle or me, or that he really loved us. Maybe he was too ashamed; that’s what I’d like to think, but in reality he was just a piece of shit.” He looked up into Paul’s eyes, wiping the tears from the young man’s cheeks first and then his own. “But you and me? We _beat_ them: the shithead bullies; the piss-poor foster families; the hateful teachers; the fuck-stain, whisky-soaked, junkie parents. We beat _every goddamn last one of them_ sonsabitches. And we’re here now. Fuck all of ‘em. Only good they done was to play a small part in getting us together in the end.”

“Daryl,” Paul started, voice soft and warm to Daryl’s ears. “I want you to know that I am so happy that you feel able to share yourself with me. I think you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

Daryl was silent, taken aback in the extreme. He felt warmth flood his chest. “I been waiting to hear that for a long time. All my goddamn life, in fact.” Daryl stroke the young man’s face and continued, “And it takes brave to know brave.”

Their eyes locked for what seemed like minutes, then suddenly Paul did some crazy move that easily rolled Daryl on his back, leaving the Adonis straddling the hunter’s hips, hands and lips joined with his own. Daryl felt his tongue being sucked into the man’s mouth; he let him have whatever he wanted and more, his moans encouraging the actor’s efforts which were definitely paying off. They were both hard as oaks.

When they came up for air, Daryl whimpered. The sound surprised even himself. Paul smiled down, not laughing or mocking in the least; instead, he looked at Daryl with a sense of wonder and reverence. 

“So, it’s my turn to ask you out,” Paul said. Daryl blinked, intrigued. “Do you feel up to coming to Sunday brunch with my family tomorrow? It will be low-key, and I promise, no shovel-talks or knife sharpening.”

Daryl nodded. “Sounds like fun,” he said. “Will there be time to make out in the hay loft?”

Paul laughed. The sound was melodious and magnificent. “Only if we want to be super itchy,” Paul replied. “But after, we can go back to my place.” His voice promised fulfillment of desire. 

“I’m in,” Daryl whispered. 

Paul leaned down on his chest and took Daryl’s left earlobe into his mouth, nibbling it slightly, and drawing a shudder out of the strapping man. “Quite. Possibly.” he whispered. Daryl instantly grabbed a handful of Paul’s hair and smashed their mouths together furiously, his tongue invading the young man’s hot mouth. He rolled Paul onto his back and starting kissing down his chest, hands roaming down to slip up under the beautiful man’s shirt. His skin was hot and slightly slick with sweat. The night was warm and humid. Before they could go so far, Daryl reigned in his libido and pulled Paul close to hold onto each other. 

“I’m on PrEP,” Daryl said. He would never had brought this up to anyone else if he hadn’t been asked directly, but he knew Paul would understand. “I’m negative, but my doctor is real proactive. Says he lives by two credos: one, all his gay and bi patients are on PrEP; he lost his brother back in the nineties. And two, never trust a fart if you’re over forty.”

Paul’s laugh cut through the dark night, startling an armadillo out from under a palmetto. 

“Thank you for telling me. That’s good to know, and just so you know, I’m on it too,” Paul admitted. “I got tested right after I found out about my ex’s fuckery, and my doctor put me on it then. I was planning on us having a conversation—I mean, I didn’t want to presume anything—but I’m glad we’re both on the same page. I’m not seeing anyone, and I haven’t since I broke up.”

“S’okay,” he reassured. “I ain’t judging.”

“Me neither,” Paul confirmed.

“I’ve had a couple of hook-ups in the past couple of years, but,” Daryl shrugged, “I tend to turn down offers. Shit, that sounds bad, like I’m cocky or something, but I just—” He tried to articulate it without sounding like a prick.

“No,” Paul reassured. “I totally get it. You want it to _mean something_.”

Daryl’s head snapped back to look at Paul. The young man swallowed. “Yeah,” Daryl whispered back. “If somebody’s gonna share that with me, I want to want _them_ like no one else, and I want them to want _me_ that way too.”

Paul nodded back. “Let me share this with you,” he said, then kissed Daryl’s mouth, sucking his at his top lip before breaking away and dropping his head onto the redneck’s god-like shoulder. Daryl’s heart melted and another thunderbolt shook him to the core.

Daryl lit up another smoke and handed it to Paul. He turned it down and Daryl shrugged. “Suit yourself. You know, Liz Taylor said ‘People who have no vices tend to have exceedingly annoying virtues,’” Daryl informed.

Paul shook his head and said, “I’m good, but I _will_ take that last beer.” 

Daryl puffed on the smoke between his lips while he retrieved the last beers from the cooler. He looked surprised when Paul got up out of the truck bed and stepped to the front seat. He heard the key click in the ignition. The windows lowered and the stereo began to play, filling the silence with David Bowie crooning _Heroes_.

“Fuck yeah!” cried Daryl. “ _Love_ this song, man!”

Paul stepped back up to him and slipped between his knees at the tailgate. “Wanna dance?”

“Pfft!” Daryl scoffed. “Naw, man. I’m shit at dancing.”

“C’mon,” Paul encouraged. “Do it for me.”

Daryl looked into those icy blue eyes, flaring to life with the passing of the beacon. He knew he couldn’t resist and let himself be lead out onto the paved road. Paul carefully set Daryl’s stance to learn a simple Texas Two-Step. In spite of his protests and quibbling about his size making him awkward at such a task, Daryl proved to be remarkably graceful. 

“Now do it, looking at me,” Paul instructed. Daryl huffed and gave in, letting his smile take over his features as he looked back up at Paul. He hoped he could just follow the cute man’s lead because in this moment, he never wanted to have to look away.

“You know, Carl’s just discovered Bowie,” Daryl mused. “Thinks he’s cool now. Got into my CDs a few months ago.” Daryl huffed a laugh. “We were riding some dirt bike trails a couple of weeks ago, and he found this old cassette tape and just looked at it. Then, I swear to god, he goes, ‘ _What’s this_?’ like it’s some ancient artifact from the tombs of the Pharaohs.”

“I was gonna say that there’s hope for the next generation, but…” Paul scoffed. “Although, I do love me some Nikki Minaj.”

“A’ight,” Daryl said. He laughed at himself for a second before looking back at Paul, trying to keep up his steps as he confessed. “I know it sounds like a cliché, and Merle gives me shit about it to this day, but I love me some Cher. Always wanted to see her in concert.”

“If she lasts as long as I think she might, we probably will!” jested Paul. “I like Cher. I always liked Madonna and Janet, too, but I really dig Cyndi Lauper and Annie Lennox.”

“Carol is a big Eurhythmics fan,” Daryl informed. “Likes a lot of English New Wave. Duran Duran, King, Talk Talk. Our gang goes to karaoke every now and then.”

“Oh my god! I love karaoke!!!” Paul cried, his excitement truly palpable. “I can bust out some Aerosmith and Red Hot Chili Peppers!”

“Oh, shit,” Daryl joked. “I think I done started something now.”

“Can I come along?” Paul asked, grinning big.

Daryl licked his lips, adopted a serious look on his face, and pulled the man to a standstill. “I think I might be persuaded.” He slid his arms around Paul’s hips, grabbing that perfect ass with both hands. Paul’s own grin melted in to a lascivious leer that let Daryl know the earlier blaze was still smoldering.

“Ever learned the Mambo?”

Daryl nodded emphatically and answered, “I know the horizontal one!” He pulled their hips together as they chuckled and shared another kiss. 

“Let me teach you to real thing,” Paul said, kissing down Daryl’s jawline and neck. The mechanic shuddered. 

After about 15 minutes of practice, Daryl thought he’d found his dance. This was the shit! The brawny man never thought he’d be Salsa dancing outside in the dark Georgia night. 

Stevie Nicks was singing softly in the background through the truck’s speakers as Daryl taught Paul more star names and constellations, trying to help him memorize them. As incentive, he would reward him with a kiss every time he got one right. Paul thought that was a very nice way to learn. Daryl thought he might be getting a few incorrect on purpose as the gorgeous man would quickly correct himself and collect his kiss. They both learned fast.

They were back on the blanket in the cargo bed of the truck, cuddled together, shirts and shoes long gone, Paul turned to Daryl and kissed the man’s broad, muscular chest. Daryl was loving how Paul’s hair fell forward to stroke and tickle his chest and neck. “We’re not at the end,” Paul declared.

“What?” Daryl asked. He was lost in happy thoughts as he reached up to release Paul’s hair from behind his ear.

“All those harsh things we endured, they didn’t get us together _in the end_. They got us here, _to the beginning_ ,” Paul explained. They both soaked in the words, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

The statement ignited the air between them. Daryl found himself down under Paul, kissing at the man’s chest, nails running down the actor’s back. Paul turned him over to rub, kiss, lick at the scarred flesh and strong muscles that were Daryl’s back. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Daryl tried to joke. 

“You wear your strength,” Paul said, his words were thick. He continued his ministrations as if by miracle he could take away the damage. “I like the tattoos. I wanna see them in sunlight.” Paul flexed his fingers and rubbed down from the shoulders to the lower lumbar area.

“ _Shit_!” Daryl sighed.

Paul stopped. 

“Naw, keep going! Your hands feel _fucking amazing_ ,” Daryl assured. “Got a massage earlier, but Frankie works mainly on muscle and deep tissue stuff. Usually only let her do my shoulders and calves. Doc says he thinks I may have had some nerve damage, but what you’re doing is _so fucking good_. Better than whatever lotus-flower-bullshit Frankie learned out in San Francisco.”

Paul slipped his thumbs below Daryl’s waistband and pressed. 

“Mmm, I love that,” Daryl admitted. “But you’re gonna start something…”

“Shh,” Paul shushed him and kissed down his back. Every scar given love. “I’m working here.”

“Mmm,” Daryl moaned in satisfaction.

He could usually fall asleep during a massage that gentle, but when Paul’s tongue licked along the back of his neck, Daryl was very awake. He could also feel Paul’s erection against his ass through their jeans. 

“Okay, man,” Daryl warned. “You want me there?”

Paul laughed softly and whispered back, “I’ll be good.” 

“I know,” Daryl replied.

Paul huffed another laugh and got up off of the colossal, handsome hunter. Daryl turned over and took Paul’s offered hand and stood up. The sky was starting to gray. Daryl let himself be led back into the backseat of the truck to cuddle up again with Paul on his chest and between his legs. It was exactly how they’d been seated on _The Wheelie_ at Six Flags. Daryl nibbled the young man’s earlobe, rubbed his thumb across on one of Paul’s nipples, and blatantly reached in other hand down to rest on Paul’s groin.

Paul’s moan was nothing short of vulgar. Daryl chuckled. “Payback is hell right?”

“Mmm,” Paul agreed. “But revenge is a motherfucker.” Paul pressed his ass back against Daryl’s crotch. 

“God _damn_ ,” Daryl breathed. “You don’t want me to come like this, do you?”

Paul looked back over his shoulder and kissed Daryl deeply. “No, not yet,” he replied. “When you do, it’ll be with me.”

Daryl almost lost it. “ _Shit_ , man. We both gonna have a harsh-ass case of the blue balls today.”

They both snickered and Paul acquiesced. “I’ll tone it down. Just remember, you started that round.”

“Yep,” Daryl confessed. “Speaking of almost there.” He nudged Paul’s face forward with his own.

“Here it comes,” Daryl whispered into Paul’s ear, his voice breathy and tight. “It’s comin’!”

“Mmm,” groaned Paul, smiling and reaching up with his left hand to stroke Daryl’s head. “I’m ready.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, yeah, yeah, yeah! There!” Daryl pointed. Paul followed the end of Daryl’s index finger, pointing out through the view of the windshield to a spot on the horizon. The sun suddenly peaked out and began to rise, its first rays cutting over the hill beyond. “It’s like a big bald head,” Daryl joked.

Paul nuzzled his temple against Daryl’s lips and chin, loving the scratchy beard against his skin. “That’s so cool. Do it again,” he whispered back.

“Tomorrow morning. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel,” Daryl joked softly. At Paul’s chuckle, Daryl kissed him on the temple, dropped his hand back down, his huge arms encircling the beautiful actor. He held Paul closer to his chest, wanting to capture this moment of contact and connection forever. They were reclined in the back seat, shoes off, legs and feet intertwined and resting on the console between the two front seats.

The morning sun was rapidly brightening the cloudscape of the eastern sky from its start as a burnished gold and fiery orange to brilliant yellow and vibrant azure. Paul was resting comfortably against Daryl’s colossal chest, his head on the mechanic’s broad shoulder. He turned his head to look up into Daryl’s storm blue eyes, his fingers still massaging the brawny man’s scalp, extracting a moan of pleasure. Daryl felt himself slip away into those icy blue orbs, leaned in, and kissed him. It was slow and tender, a fitting punctuation to the spectacle that was the dawn.

“If somebody had told me Wednesday that I’d meet someone like you,” Daryl said, looking into Paul’s gorgeous face, “I’d have told ‘em to check and see if their eyes were brown from being so fulla shit.” 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t expect it. Good things happen to good people,” Paul reassured as he stole another kiss, then sat up and turned to face Daryl. “Do you have to piss as bad as I do?”

“God yeah,” Daryl laughed. “My eyeballs are bobbing.”

Paul laughed back as he grabbed Daryl’s boots and handed them over. “Aww, you should have said! Oh god! I was like pressed down on you.”

“I’m all right,” Daryl assured him, stroking the back of the younger man’s neck. His skin was so nice to touch and lie against. Daryl wanted to worship it all over, and he planned to do just that. “And you were right where I needed you to be.”

Paul started to say something when the weight of the words hit him. He smiled back, then pulled on his shoes while Daryl slipped into his own. They stepped around the truck together and pissed on the grassy embankment. Daryl felt a shudder at finally being able to empty his bladder. He had just zipped back up when Paul’s hands slipped around his waist; the beautiful man was pressed up behind him. It felt so amazing, but finally, Daryl couldn’t resist.

“Did you wash your hands?” he asked in a low, sultry voice; the humor was palpable.

He could feel Paul shaking his head against the back of his shoulders. “Nope.”

“I think I’m gonna let it slide this time,” Daryl said.

“Thank you,” Paul said, mockingly rueful. His hand started to edge slowly down into the right-hand pocket of Daryl’s jeans. “Do you trust me?”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl moaned, nodding back. “But you should know, I usually hang to the left.”

“Good to know!” Paul laughed, pulling his hand out from Daryl’s pocket. 

“And my keys are still in the ignition, you thieving dumbass,” Daryl teased. Daryl turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Get in. You promised me breakfast, remember?”

“Can I drive?”

Daryl leaned back his head and stared for a second. “You scratch it...” He tilted his head. 

Paul rolled his fantastic blue eyes, grabbed the belt loops at the front of Daryl’s jeans, and drew the handsome man up close. “You worried I’m gonna wreck your stuff?”

“You promised to be good,” Daryl reminded.

“So goddamn good,” Paul whispered into a soft kiss. “Now get in the passenger’s seat.”

Daryl huffed a laugh as he watched Paul’s perfect ass walking away, only stopping to stow the cooler back under the toolbox before stepping up to open the driver’s side door. Paul looked over his shoulder and flicked his head once toward the truck, encouraging Daryl to hurry up.

“A’ight,” he agreed and trotted around to the back of the truck and closed the tailgate, then walked around to the other side of the truck, snatching up the blanket and grocery bag from the truck bed and stowing them in the floorboard of the back seat; he grabbed their shirts from the back seat and tossed Paul’s over to him. Daryl opened the passenger side door and jumped in, reaching for his phone to check it. The little blue notification light was blinking. He showed it to Paul and smirked, then opened it up to read his texts.

**_Messages_ **

**_12:07 AM_ **  
**_Big Bro: I see you ant home yet_ **

**_12:08 AM_ **  
**_Big Bro: Don’t tell C Im checking on you. Out getting Krystals. My story, Im sticking to it_ **

**_12:08 AM_ **  
**_Big Bro: The kind you eat. Not the meth kind._ **

**_12:13 AM_ **  
**_Big Bro: How the fuck do you delete texts? Shit. Sophia only takes cash for this._ **

**_12:42 AM_**  
**_Stuff & Thangs: You still out? Hope yall are havin fun! A lot!!!! Michonne says I gotta stop texting and come to bed now._** *wink emoji* *thumbs up emoji*

 ** _1:13 AM_**  
**_I’ll Blow U Good: R U impaling our lord ‘n savior to a mattress w/ ur 9 inch nail?_** *eggplant emoji* **_Alden is in LOVE w/ him & totally lime-green JELLY about it!!! LOL I gotta go eat his ass to calm his nerves, so it’s not ALL bad. Thanks!_** *tongue emoji* **_Happy fucking, boo!!!!_**

**_4:48 AM_**  
**_Twizzler Girl: Hey, is that your truck parked down at the end of the airport parking lot? Just checking. Don’t want to interrupt the party._** *Fist-bump emoji*

Daryl started snickering and shaking his head to himself as Paul cranked up the vehicle, turned on the air conditioning, and rolled up the windows as he let the engine warm up. “You gotta hear these, man,” Daryl laughed, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it up. He read the messages to Paul who slipped on his own shirt and buttoned it; he found the messages absolutely adorable. 

“Aww! They love you so much!” Paul said.

“I know, right?” Daryl quipped. “Did Maggie or Beth hit you up?”

“Let’s see,” said Paul, adjusting in his seat in order to get his phone out of his front pocket. He smiled back to Daryl, holding his phone where the brawny redneck could see the screen with him. “Why, yes! Both of them. Oh, and Shawn too.” 

**_Messages_ **

**_9:38 PM_**  
**_Beth: Haven’t heard from you yet. I am assuming that means it’s going REALLY WELL!_** *exploding hearts*

**_10:44 PM_ **  
**_Maggie: I told you!_ **

**_10:44 PM_**  
**_Maggie: Are you bringing him to brunch this Sunday? Noon at First Watch. Daddy and Annette are gonna be tickled to death!_**

**_11:02 PM_**  
**_Shawn: Hey bro! Don’t want to get all up in your business, and I thought a lot about whether or not to say this, but I think you and Daryl would be so good for each other. I really hope this works out._** *heart* **_you!_**

**_12:45 AM_ **  
**_AMC TV: Paul, please report to set at 36 Sylvan Avenue, Senoia, GA 30276 for security clearance, wardrobe fitting, and hair/make-up check on Monday, Aug 25. Call time is 7:00 AM EDT. Scene sequences 6-10.03 – 6-10.18. Tuesday, Aug 26, Call time is 6:00 with read-thru and blocking rehearsals. Scene sequences 6-11.01 – 6-11.18._ **

“You got something from AMC?” Daryl asked. Paul turned the phone back and looked. 

“Ah yes,” Paul answered, putting the phone down and shifting the truck into drive. “Shooting schedule this week. Gotta get fitted and figure out how they want my hair and clothes.”

“They gonna keep you busy?” 

“Usually,” Paul said. “But I am not in every scene of every episode, so I will have some time off. Don’t worry about that. I promise to _work_ really hard so that we can _play_ really hard.”

Daryl licked his lips. Paul caught his hand and kissed his middle knuckle. He eased the truck out onto the main road and turned back toward Rockaway Road. In a few minutes, they had driven back to Paul’s place to freshen up and put a couple of ice packs and some lotion on their shared beard burn, which they found to be hilarious. By 9:00 AM, they strode into _The Mean Bean_ , waving to Sasha and Tyreese. Daryl agreed with Paul that it was a good thing to patronize businesses whose owners went out of their way to open up late for you. The place was already on and popping, nearly filled with a mix of the some of the sunrise service church crowd from the Seventh Day Adventists and Jehovah's Witnesses, and early bird tourists, ready to get a hearty meal before their visits to all of the movie and television film sets. 

The two sat down at the main dining counter as it was immediately available. Sasha came over, brought them both coffee and water, and let them have a minute to peruse the menu.

“I. Love. Her.” Paul said. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to be _my_ Carol.”

Daryl laughed. “I think that’s a damn fine choice.”

The smells of bacon and coffee made both of their stomachs growl. Paul teased Daryl about having a little “coffee with his sugar.” 

“I saw the menu last night, and I am dying for some decent grits,” Paul said. “I think I need one of everything.”

“They didn’t have you some fancy grits in Los Angeles?” Daryl ribbed.

Paul shook his head. “Sadly, not with any consistency. There were a few gems, but they were really hard to get into, which my trainer is probably thankful for.”

“You got a trainer?” Daryl asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Paul admitted. “The show started me with a new trainer this past May. I’ve been working on a lot of stuff. I hope you like the results.”

“Fishin’ for compliments?” Daryl teased.

“You are an ass!” Paul laughed.

Daryl leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I really like your ass. You should try the Morning Glory. It has some of everything.”

“Mr Rovia?” asked a voice to Paul’s right.

“Yes?” Paul turned just in time to have a flash pop full in his face. A man and a woman had eased up behind them. The woman had her cellphone out, obviously recording the exchange; the man had a big Minolta camera with flash arm. They both tore into question mode immediately, their words practically overlapping.

“Paul, can you confirm that you’re going to be a new character on _Death Ascendant_?”

“Are you going to be playing Merlin?” the man yelled.

Daryl was up on them in a flash. 

“Get the hell away from him,” Daryl’s voice was low and dangerous. “Both of you.”

The restaurant had become silent. Only the hiss of bacon frying in the back and the groan of the hinges on the swinging kitchen service doors were making any noise now that the huge chef had appeared out front. All eyes were on the two intruders.

“I don’t see you moving, asshole,” Daryl snapped, stepping up into the man’s face, his chest bumping the camera.

“What’s the problem here?” came Tyreese’s voice. The look on his face was stern. 

“These two are harassing our customers,” Sasha explained. 

The pair jumped when they realized she was right behind them. The carafe in her left hand was about two-thirds full of near-boiling coffee. It almost matched the level of her temper at seeing what she obviously considered a personal violation. 

“I figure you two are literate since you obviously work for some form of what I will graciously call ‘the media.’ Therefore, I assume you read the sign.” She pointed to a sign at the front door that said:

**The privacy and security of our patrons is our first priority. No photography or recording allowed without the expressed consent of management and all participants.**

“C’mon,” the woman tugged at the guy’s sleeve. “I deleted it. See?” She held up the screen of the phone, showing a picture of Daryl to Sasha. Sasha watched her open the video gallery and delete the file. She nodded and thanked her, then turned to the man.

“Mine already got transmitted,” he said. “Sorry. First Amendment.”

“Delete it. Take it off wherever you sent it,” said Daryl. His voice was deadly serious. The redneck was practically fuming. 

“It’s okay,” Paul said. He pulled on Daryl’s sleeve to get him to follow his lead back to the dining bar. Daryl went with him but put his patented glare on full blast. The reporters were tucking tail and leaving. 

“Don’t come back!” Sasha ordered.

“You’re banned!” shouted Tyreese. Patrons throughout the café applauded and whistled.

“This happens. Ignore them.” He pulled out his phone and punched up a contact. As the number rang, he rubbed Daryl’s forearm trying to soothe the big man. “I’m so sorry.”

“Y’all okay?” Tyreese asked. Sasha had joined them at the counter.

“I’m so sorry guys,” Paul lamented.

“We’re good. Thanks!” Daryl said, hugging Sasha and shaking Tyreese’s hand before the chef dashed back into the kitchen. 

“It’s not on you, honey,” Sasha reassured. “The cockroaches are coming out of the woodwork.” She patted Paul’s hand and moved on to refill the coffee cups at another table.

Paul’s call connected. “Dante? Hey, man. It’s Paul. I am so sorry to have to call.” He listened, then simply said. “It happened again. Got ambushed. Can you help?” He listened some more. “You’re the best! Thanks!” Paul exclaimed excitedly and hung up.

“What is it?” Daryl asked.

“I know an information security specialist,” Paul stated. “He’s going to search any new posts of me and demand they be removed or face penalty.”

“He can do that?”

Paul nodded. “And if they refuse, well.” The cute actor shrugged and continued much quieter. “I’m not saying he might do anything illegal, but he could give Lisbeth Salander lessons.”

“Who?”

“Oh god! I know what book you’re reading next!” Paul teased.

They ordered their food and enjoyed a breakfast that was fit for a king. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttery grits, and fluffy pancakes with sugar cane syrup were the fare of the day. After that, Daryl drove Paul by his shop and his place to let him see where they were located. Paul put the mechanic’s addresses into his contacts. Then, they drove over to Paul’s place and got out. 

“How’re you feeling? ‘Bout to pass out?” Daryl inquired, teasing slightly.

“I wouldn’t do that; I might miss you taking advantage of me,” Paul quipped. “Besides, I’ve got my second wind now.” He stepped up to Daryl and reached up around the gorgeous mechanic’s wide shoulders. Those were a big plus in the sexy column on Paul’s internal list. “But all those carbs are going to drag me crashing down soon!”

Daryl’s sculpted arms slipped around Paul's waist, and his strong hands found purchase under the waistband of Paul’s jeans. He now had a double-handful of that perfect ass. The kiss that followed left them both breathless and panting. “When I wake up,” Paul said, his voice carrying exhaustion and desire. “Do you want me to call you? Or nudge you?” 

Daryl grinned and rested his forehead on Paul’s for a second before stealing two more deep kisses. Then, he collected himself.

“Daryl,” Paul said, clearly worried. “If you’re tired, I don’t want you driving. I’m serious. You can stay here. We don’t have to be anywhere until noon tomorrow.”

Daryl let himself be led inside the house, up the stairs, and into the cool master bedroom. He fell asleep in his nice new boxer briefs, lying under the soft sheet with Paul spooned up behind him, legs intertwined and holding the cute man’s hand against his chest.


	4. Dive Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul visit with family and come to a startling realization: they've fallen head over heels, and this ride is now off the rails!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, light smut to start with complete, yet tasteful, smut near the end. There's also a little "slap and tickle." See the tags. There are some family moments that should hit you in the "feels" in a good way. Apologies for the time to post, but it kept growing and the original version plagued me for a few days before I told myself, "Bitch! Get crankin'! These boys are waitin' on YOUR ASS! Pick, commit, and make it make YOU happy!" Hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! Thanks as always for the kudos and comments! XOXO <3

The tiny whir of a motor cut into the deep, rejuvenating silence of the cool, dark bedroom. Daryl had been dreaming of Paul, and they were back on the roller coasters, laughing, smiling, kissing happily. He couldn’t tell if it was the _Mindbender_ or not, but that didn’t really seem to matter; they were together, and Daryl never wanted them to be apart. He was languishing in the gorgeous man’s smiles and touches. Paul’s lips were so fucking soft and sweet against his.

The sound became more pronounced, and Daryl opened his eyes, blinking in the dim light. He’d only ever slept in a king size bed once before when he’d stayed at a nice hotel in Atlanta. This one was simply amazing. It was like the mattress _knew_ how to hold him. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn’t even rolled over or turned at all the whole time he’d been asleep. It held him almost as well as the beautiful young man he’d fallen for, the one snuggled up next to his back—his _exposed_ back. 

He remembered them making their way back in. Paul grabbed a couple of waters from the refrigerator and led him by the hand—and frequently by the lips—up to his bedroom. They had taken a few gulps of water and set the bottles on the night stands to each side of the bed. Then, they helped each other undress. Paul had half-folded their things and dropped them on a chair in the corner. He’d let Daryl pull him over to the bed and lay him down, planting a trail of soft, wet kisses down the actor’s chest and stomach before Paul pulled him back up on top of him and kissed him full and deep. 

They had whispered the most wonderful things to each other: things they wanted to do to each other; things one had already done or said that made the other’s heart melt; things they knew their family and friends were saying about them right now; things they had never thought they would say so soon. They both decided that recharging their minds and bodies was the best option right then. When it happened, and it was going to happen, they wanted to be at their absolute best for each other. By about 10:30 that morning, they had fallen asleep together in utter tranquility and contentment. Now, the whirring motor noise was somewhere under the bed. 

Daryl blinked his eyes, inhaled, and coughed a couple of times. Paul groaned behind him, but when he looked, his gorgeous man was still in the firm grip of sleep. Daryl peeked over the side of the bed, trying not to disentangle himself too much from Paul, whose hand had slid down to the muscular mechanic’s hip. He was perplexed to see a disc-like object with lights and buttons on top come rolling out from under the bed. It was as if Paul’s bathroom scale had been assimilated by the Borg.

“What the fuck?” Daryl muttered to himself, chuckling. The movement from Daryl’s laugh, coupled with the sound of the little machine, finally roused Paul.

“Oh, shit!” Paul sprang to life, rolling over quick as a wink to grab his phone. He was cursing to himself and trying to rub sleep from one eye while swiping and touching the display. After entering a couple of commands, the little machine stopped in its tracks and reversed its course, returning to what looked to be a charging dock in the far corner of the room.

“It’s my vacuum robot,” Paul sighed. “It’s on a timer program. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to wake you up.”

Daryl lay back down and pulled the incredibly cute man back over and up onto his massive chest, laughing. “You too lazy to fucking vacuum?” the handsome hunter teased. “Or too cheap to get a maid?” Daryl’s guffaw rang out. Paul’s jaw dropped. “You bought all them Flash passes, and now you’re broke as shit!”

“Oh, fuck right off! Daryl Dixon, you total ass!” Paul scoffed, laughing at himself and his handsome redneck’s wit as he let himself be pulled up onto the man’s incredible body. “Just for that, I should kiss you with my morning breath!”

“Don’t fling me in that briar patch!” Daryl countered, holding his gorgeous actor’s hands and wrestling playfully as Paul got up on his knees, straddling Daryl’s thighs. “Probably got dragon breath myself.”

Paul had a pretty good idea that he was unlikely to cringe from morning breath if it was Daryl’s and vice versa. He bent down and gave Daryl a soft kiss. To their mutual relief, neither found it offensive. When he sat back up, he ran his fingers over Daryl’s chest. Their erections were more than evident; in fact, neither man’s length could be fully covered or contained by the material. Daryl licked his lips and swallowed; Paul just looked down, then back up and gave a crooked smile in response. After last night, they had no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed at displaying their mutual arousal to each other.

“Do you feel like taking a shower?” Paul asked softly, his hands gently kneading Daryl’s huge pecs. “With me?”

“Mmm,” Daryl moaned. The muscular man sat up, hugging Paul with his god-like arms and pressing his face into the middle of the gorgeous actor’s chest, nuzzling it slowly. He kissed Paul’s fantastic chest and inhaled deeply. Daryl could still detect the slightest air of the fragrance Paul had worn; mixed with the scent Daryl was coming to know as Paul’s, it was an intoxicating delight. “You smell fucking fantastic.” Daryl’s voice was muffled due to still being buried in Paul’s chest, lightly kissing his pecs and sternum. 

Paul chuckled. “And I want to keep it that way.”

Daryl sighed through his nose. “Don’t suppose you got a spare toothbrush?”

“Not yet, but,” Paul suggested tentatively, “You can use mine if you don’t think that’s too gross. I’ll spray it with some alcohol first.”

“I ain’t afraid of your cooties!” Daryl said, his hands latching onto Paul’s sides and tickling the actor’s rib cage furiously. Paul yelped and rolled back. Daryl pressed his attack by leaning down, placing his lips on the skin of Paul’s flat stomach next to his navel, and blowing a zerbert. Paul’s unbridled laughter rang through the house.

“NO, no! No, don’t! Please! I will pee! I swear! I will pee _right here_ in this bed that we want to fuck in!” Paul said through his straining laughter.

“Hey, some guys are into water sports,” he quipped, finally relenting and pulling Paul back up to his knees and into his strong arms before lowering his voice to a sultry tone. “But not me.” He eased a hand through Paul’s lustrous hair. 

“And just what are you into?” Paul asked playfully.

Daryl looked back, his countenance so absolutely thoughtful. “I’m just into you.” Paul nuzzled his face against Daryl’s neck.

“I see you’re uncut too,” Paul noted with a wry smile. “Me likey!”

“Yeah, Merle and me never got snipped” Daryl shrugged. “Old man said it was too Jewish.” He rolled his eyes. 

“That’s okay. You think my junkie parents had me in a hospital? That might have meant not getting high. Priorities, man.”

“It don’t matter to me,” Daryl declared. “As long as it’s part of you.” He blinked at Paul and licked his lips, then added. “Know what else turns me on about you? Besides your smokin’ hot body, your incredible eyes, your super-model hair, your beautiful lips, your perfect smile?” he teased; Paul laughed and smiled back as Daryl went on, “Your amazing ass, and that hooded anaconda between your legs?”

“I am utterly pleased to say the same about you,” Paul said, his voice a lusty whisper as he ground his body against Daryl’s; his tongue delicately brushed Daryl’s lips. “But besides all that, you were saying?”

Daryl looked at Paul seriously and explained. “It’s fucking hot to me that you ain’t said nothing about who’s gonna be a top or a bottom. You ain’t just assumed that we’re gonna be stuck in some kinda role.” Daryl kissed Paul’s chin, jawline, and neck. “I like both, not just one or the other, and if it works for you, I need for us to do both. A whole lot.”

“I was more of a bottom in my last relationship, and I didn’t get to top as much as I wanted to. I think because I wasn’t truly happy in it, I didn’t appreciate the dynamic as much as I would have if I’d felt like more of an equal,” Paul admitted, brushing Daryl’s bangs back gently to better look into his eyes. “But I like both, and I think doing both works best for me. I don’t want to miss out on everything we can do to give each other pleasure. So no worries there, okay?”

Daryl nodded and cupped Paul’s face, making sure his gorgeous actor was taking his words and emotions in clearly. “It’s important to me that you’re satisfied in this,” the hunter said. “And yeah, you’re an equal, and I am going to need to be inside you and to have you in me. You can get gutter-filthy with me. If you wanna manhandle me, just don’t push it too far. You can scratch my back when were in the moment. You can hold me down, pinch my nipples, give me love bites and hickeys all day, even slap my ass and rub it in, but just don’t slap my face or my back. Okay?”

“Okay, and so noted,” Paul assured. “You total man-whore!”

“Mmm,” Daryl moaned. “There ya go!”

“And you,” Paul instructed. “You can manhandle me and get bossy if you like, or you can be gentle and tender. If it’s you doing the love-making, I’m gonna be pretty much in, but I’ll let you know if something gets to be too much. I’m pretty adaptive. As for limits, I think ours tend to jive well.” He put Daryl’s hand on his ass. Daryl squeezed it, and Paul smiled back and bit his bottom lip. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

“I want you. All of you, even coming inside each other,” Daryl answered. “We’re both clean and exclusive. I don’t even want us to pull out. Are you okay with that kinda close?”

“With you? God, yes!” Paul nodded his agreement, and they sealed it with a long, deep kiss.

“Let’s go find that toothbrush and get in that shower,” Daryl said, smacking a stinging slap down on Paul’s ass cheek and rubbing it in. Paul’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, snickering as he played with Daryl’s nipples. 

Paul nuzzled his face back under his man’s chin and started working his way down in a line of kisses all the way to Daryl’s left nipple before taking the tempting bit of flesh into his mouth. After a moment of tender attention, Paul released it from his lips and eased off the bed, pulling Daryl along with him to the bathroom. He let Daryl piss while he dashed away to do the same in the guest toilet. When he returned, Daryl had already found the toothbrush and mouthwash. Paul walked past him to the shower and turned it on. Daryl finished up and leaned back against the vanity with his hands resting on the countertop, ankles crossed. He watched as Paul gargled—the pretty man almost did a spit-take when he noticed his handsome redneck’s amused smirk—then brushed his own teeth and spit. There was some kind of dentistry looking device Daryl assumed to be a water-pick, though he’d never actually seen one before. Paul skipped it, looking back at him, never breaking his eye contact as the gorgeous man reached his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and pushed them down, stepping out of them. He was still very much erect, foreskin fully retracted, and the man was quite well endowed. Daryl’s smirk changed to a serious expression. His young man was utterly angelic. 

Paul's smile diminished, and a look of worry crossed over his features like a cloud blocking the sun. “Is something—?”

Daryl stepped forward, cupping his man’s face and kissing him tenderly. He shook his head to dispel Paul’s fears instantly and said, “Holy fuck, Paul. You’re so goddamn _beautiful_. I—I ain’t got the words,” he stammered. For a second Daryl’s face scrunched, and a tear fell down his right cheek. “You sure you want—? I mean, I—I just wanna do everything right.”

This time it was Paul’s turn. He shushed Daryl with a finger to his lips, then leaned in to kiss his handsome hunter. Daryl sniffed once and regained himself. Paul held his head and wiped the tear with his thumb. “Two things: First, I have never been more certain of _anything_ in my entire life; and, second, we’re going as far as you like. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be ready. And most of all, I need you to know that _I want you_ —my perfect, handsome—yes, you _are_!—gorgeous, generous, sweet, very well hung man who happens to be built like a god,” Paul said clearly. He stood up to his full height, eyes locked with Daryl’s, and let his hands run down Daryl’s shoulders, chest, stomach, and hips. His fingers stopped to play at the waistband of his brawny mechanic’s underwear; his cock was pressing against Daryl, hard and bold. “So get in here and let me bathe you, handsome. Besides, my ass isn’t going to wash itself this evening.”

Daryl’s grin returned, and he huffed a laugh as Paul cracked up. “You better not have any fake-fruit-smellin’ shampoo ‘cause I _really_ hate that shit,” he groused jokingly, reaching down and sliding off the black boxer briefs in one smooth, determined motion. Daryl’s own remarkable manhood was shamelessly protruding before him, a testament to his attraction to the perfect partner. The contact of their aroused cocks was a given. This time, rather than letting Paul lead the way, Daryl began to back his man up to the edge of the tub, sliding open the glass door and entering the spray.

Lips and tongues played together in a delightful dance. Hips began to grind against each other. Daryl reached between them to take hold of both large cocks, adding to the stimulation; he noted with no small amount of surprise that he was going to have to use two hands because of their exceptional width. He squeezed the thick columns upward and milked forth the natural lubricant, working it back around the heads and shafts and keeping them in constant friction. Paul was moaning and encouraging Daryl’s continued attention; he began to thrust his hips into Daryl’s fist and against his hunter’s leaking cock. Daryl stroked both hands down the shafts from head to base as Paul reached beneath each of them to play with their holes and perineum. It was magnificent. 

Daryl could feel a heat begin to build and pool in his abdomen, flowing its way toward his groin. He could see that Paul’s mouth was open, his breath coming in jagged pants. They were reaching the pinnacle. 

“That’s right! Yeah! I’m fucking close!” Paul called out. He was grunting in time with his thrusts. His right hand was now tickling Daryl’s hole, and from the motion of his left hand, Paul was doing so to himself as well. 

Daryl felt foreskin slide against Paul’s length. He looked over into Paul’s face and the man move forward. They caught each other’s open mouth. With the kiss their bodies spilled over. Paul began to cry out and ejaculate first. Daryl felt it hit his arm, stomach, and chest. Paul continued whining into his mouth as he continued to shoot. That was all she wrote, and the handsome hunter began to come less than three seconds later, his lover whispering his affection.

“Holy god!” Paul gasped. “That was so hot! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Paul said, punctuating each with a kiss. 

“I take it you liked that?” Daryl asked. He was serious as a heart attack.

Paul smiled, “Very much!” Daryl saw that the young man was crying. He pulled him in, held him close, and let him rest against his body, stroking the back of Paul’s neck with one hand while drawing circles just at the top of his young man’s flawless ass with the other, letting both of them ride out the climax.

“Come back down,” he said softly. Daryl leaned back against the cool tile, and they stood in the spray for a couple of minutes while recovering. 

When he could move and speak again, Paul reached into the corner of the stall and picked up a plastic bottle. A tea tree shampoo lathered through Daryl’s hair, worked by Paul’s loving fingers and satiating Daryl’s scalp. The muscular hunter ran his own hands through Paul’s lustrous hair, nails gently scratching his scalp with the product. A clean-smelling shower gel Daryl had never heard of—something with quinoa and avocado—was dispensed into their hands and found its way upon their skin. Between and during these ministrations were kisses that vaporized fears and ignited hearts. 

Daryl got his wish: he was worshipping, memorizing, and adoring every inch of Paul’s body. He loved the little crescent-shaped scar on the man’s right knee, confessed as the result of first attempts at learning to skateboard. He loved the tiny mole on the inside of Paul’s left arm. He thought the man’s body hair was perfect: not too much, not too little. Paul was trimmed close and clean shaven in just the right amounts, and exactly the right places. Daryl trimmed, but not as closely and not as often of late. He was beginning to regret not having taken Jared up on the manscaping.

“You want me to trim some more?” Daryl asked as they were languishing together. 

Paul finished rinsing his hair and stepped up closer, wrapping his arms around the neck of the god-of-a-man before him. His shining eyes were drinking Daryl in, and he shook his head slightly as he answered, “I want you to be happy and comfy. As long as I don’t have to have a machete to get through it, well…” They both chuckled.

“I like how this feels,” Daryl said, reaching down to cup Paul’s smooth sac and the heavy contents. The young man moaned in pleasure, and kissed him back. Daryl could feel Paul’s cock jump at his touch. “What’s it like?”

Paul tilted his head and looked to the shelf that the shampoo and conditioner sat on as a thought ran through his mind. Then, he picked up the straight razor from the shelf below with the shaving products and asked, “Do you trust me?”

Daryl huffed a laugh. Paul arched a brow and bit his lower lip. 

“What the hell?” Daryl shrugged. “Go for it while I got the nerve. Just don’t cut my dick off.” 

“Oh hell no! I like that monster right where it is. We’re just giving the place a make-over.” Paul smiled and knelt down before him. Daryl ended up with a distinct smile on his face.

By the time Paul was done with the razor, Daryl was enjoying having a nice, manly smelling shave balm applied to his sac and perineum. The sensation was nothing short of awesome. Paul also used his wet/dry trimmer, and after a look in the mirror and seeing the expression on Paul’s face, Daryl felt like he had been left looking as masculine as he liked but well-groomed enough that Paul would enjoy giving him head—or anything else—without there being anything potentially unsightly. Paul assured him that would never be a problem and explained that he did this to show Daryl how much he cared about his happiness and his willingness to be open to new experiences, and because Daryl was extremely hard again after,.the gorgeous man also gave Daryl a blowjob worthy of the gods, the kind that ended with brawny hunter’s legs shaking like Jell-O and left him panting like an old gas station dog. Showing his own affection and appreciation in a titanic display of prowess and skill, Daryl picked Paul all the way up onto his shoulders, held him against the wall, hands on the ceiling, and returned the favor in kind until Paul cried out his name and then shuddered in ecstasy, his hands gripping Daryl’s locks for dear life. Dary finally released Paul's softening cock from his mouth and brought him back down to smother him with a deep kiss that Paul returned eagerly, each trying to crush the life from the other and renewing it all at once, their tears of joy a welcome wash of relief in the releasing.

It was after 8:00 when they were dressed and in the kitchen splitting a Coca-Cola; Paul was speaking on the phone with Maggie. He leaning across the corner of the island and kissed the colossal man between telling his sister that their date had been absolutely perfect and giving her tiny details to piece together for herself. He ducked the pointed question about what the noise in the background was when he grunted and then sucked in a breath as Daryl picked him up, planted him on the countertop, and began kissing down his neck. The garage entry door chimed as it opened. Daryl immediately turned to the entrance, wary and protective after the incident earlier that morning.

“Paul? Whose truck is that?” came a questioning voice. A young man with caramel complexion, warm brown eyes, and jet black hair came trundling in, arms laden with several bags and a couple of three-ring binders. “I have the re-writes to go over, and some snacks, and—oh! Hey! Who the hell are you? Why are you in here?”

“Who the fuck are you, asshole?” snapped Daryl. “That door was locked.”

“Gotta run, sis! Whoa, Daryl!” Paul said, hanging up and stepping in. “Daryl, this is my assistant, Siddiq. Siddiq, this is Daryl Dixon. We’re—“

“ ** _Dating_** ,” Daryl finished. He looked at Paul. “Your assistant? Like secretary?”

Paul cringed at the word. “Well, sort of, but he’s so much more, hence why he has a key to my place. I forgot that he was coming by if we got re-writes I have to learn.” He turned back to the assistant. “I should have called to update you. Sorry, man.”

“You didn’t answer your phone so I thought I’d just drop by to at least get them to you tonight,” explained Siddiq. 

“Sorry about that,” Paul said. 

“Hey! You have no idea how happy I am that you are finally getting your groove back!” Siddiq exclaimed, flicking his head toward Daryl. “This guy? Total specimen! It’s good to know there’s someone who watches out for him,” he said, looking back to Daryl and inclining his head toward Paul.”

“Shit, man,” Daryl said, smiling sheepishly and holding out a hand. “Didn’t mean to be a dick. Just had some reporters with boundary issues earlier today.”

“ _Whaaaat_?” Siddiq intoned. He shook Daryl’s hand, then turned to Paul and mouthed “Marry him!” Then he turned back to Daryl and said, “Not a problem, man. No offense taken.”

“Thanks, Siddiq. I really appreciate it,” said Paul, adding with a slight note of sarcastic nicety, “ _You can go now_.”

“Oh!” SIddiq blurted out, realization setting in. “I’m out for now. Just call me tomorrow morning and we will find a time to work on those after you—you know… After you’re all relaxed. You guys go enjoy some more naked time,” the assistant explained awkwardly as he waved goodbye and made his way back out to the garage. 

Daryl huffed a laugh as he turned back to Paul. “He’s cool,” Daryl said. “But if he thinks we’re gonna be fucking on the couch while he stands there trying to rehearse lines with you, he’s got another think coming.”

“He’s awesome!” Paul said, smiling. “But, you’re right. Fucking in the hot tub would be more appropriate for running lines.”

“Exactly!” Daryl joked, taking Paul’s face in his hands and kissing him. “Want to get out for a while?”

“Sure,” Paul replied. “Late dinner?”

“Yep,” Daryl said, handing Paul his keys and wallet from the counter and taking his hand to lead him out to the truck.

In a few minutes, they were on their way into town. Daryl pressed a button on the steering wheel and spoke up. “Call Merle’s house.” In a moment, a female voice sounded across the truck speakers.

“Hey, Daryl. We were about to call Rick to put out an APB,” Carol joked.

“Hey, Carol,” Daryl said. “Heads-up. You’re on the air with Daryl and Paul.”

“Oh!” Carol intoned. “Hi, Paul!”

“Hi, Carol!” Paul responded.

“Are you guys out and about?”

“Yep,” Daryl said. “Y’all eat yet?”

“Sophia’s spending the night at Enid’s, and Merle’s been asleep on the couch since the middle of the Braves game. I was about to make a couple of grilled cheese. What did you have in mind?”

“Picking up some strip steaks,” Daryl said. “Fire up that fryer, and get out your cast iron.”

Carol laughed. “Okay, but get the rib eyes. They’re on sale.”

Daryl shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Will do. See y’all in a minute.”

“I am so excited to meet you!” Paul called out.

“Can’t wait!” Carol said. She sounded genuinely thrilled. “See you soon!”

As the call was disconnected, they caught her yelling for Merle to wake up. Daryl shook his head and peaked over at Paul as he pulled into a parking space at Kroger. They hopped out, made their purchases, and were back on the road to Carol’s in no time. Daryl pulled up in the driveway of the nice ranch-style house with immaculate yards and shrubbery. A moment later, the light under the garage turned on just before Merle Dixon stepped outside; although he was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt—something Paul noted as a commonality of the Dixon men—he was still barefooted as a yard dog. He walked around Carol’s Jeep Grand Cherokee and waved the visitors down. 

“Hey, baby brother!” he said, a smile on his face. “Y’all get down and come on in. What you need me to get?”

“Hey, man!” Daryl said, pulling a couple of grocery bags from the floor of the seat behind his. “I think we got it.”

“Hey, Paul!” The big man reached out a hand to Paul. “Welcome to Carol’s castle! She’s been good enough to let me hang around,” he joked.

“I hear she’s really nice like that,” Paul grinned as he shook Merle’s hand. “Thanks for having us.”

“Thank y’all for bringing steaks!” Merle huffed. “Otherwise it would’ve been grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“Brought beer too,” Paul said, holding up the 12-pack he’d purchased at the grocery store.

“Yeah, son, you off to a real good start,” Merle commended.

Daryl huffed a laugh and muttered over, “Already sucking up to my family, man?”

“Totally,” answered Paul as they walked in the door and made their way into the kitchen.

The room was large, with light gray wood cabinetry and white marble counter tops with strong bluish-gray veining throughout. Glass and metal tiles formed a complimentary backsplash that ran along the wall between the countertops and the overhead cabinets and all the way up to the stylish subway tile behind the high-end gas stove and double wall-mounted ovens; recessed lighting beneath the cabinets opened the room and showed off the heart of the home. Stylish drop lighting emphasized the massive island with prep area, enclosed ice maker, second sink, infrared grill top, and built in deep fryer; its presence made this a super kitchen. Carol Peletier stood at the island wearing an apron that read “I’m not saying I’m Wonder Woman, but you’ve never seen the two of us in the same place at the same time!” 

“Hi, guys!” she called. “Come on in!” She had just finished cutting up potatoes into steak fries and dropped them into a bowl of ice water.

Daryl placed the bags on the island and leaned over to exchange a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then he turned to Paul. “Paul Rovia, this is my friend, Carol.” 

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Paul!” she said. “Are you a hugger? I’m a hugger, but I’m a good hugger, so I tend to ask first.” She giggled.

“I _am_ a hugger, so this works well,” Paul said, a smile breaking over his face as he reached out and embraced her. Over his shoulder, Carol spoke, “Oh, Daryl, I really like him!”

Daryl shook his head at Merle and murmured, “That’s _your_ woman.”

Merle just huffed a laugh and reached into the grocery bags to remove the steaks and unwrap the butcher’s parchment. Paul and Carol were hitting it off, and in that capacity, she immediately put him to work, slicing garlic and cutting a few sprigs of rosemary from her plant on the window sill. 

Once the oven timer went off, Carol had Merle open the back sliding glass door and turn on the oven vents as she carefully pulled two large, cast iron skillets from the oven and put them on the highest stove burners. Steaks had been rubbed with salt and oil. She dropped the steaks in, the hissing sear strong and immediate. The oil smoked heavily, and realization clicked with Paul. About the back door being open. After about a minute per side, she added the butter, garlic, fresh ground peppercorns, and the rosemary, and spooned the resulting juices across the steaks before placing the pans back into the hot ovens to finish. In the meantime, she dropped a basket of fries into the hot oil while Merle and Paul chopped up greens and plated the salads. The final results were perfectly cooked ribeyes, crispy steak fries, and fresh side salads with a lemon vinaigrette. They sat outside, eating by candlelight and flood lamps at a large patio table. Carol also broke out the blackberry cobbler she had made the night before and popped it into the oven to warm through. 

“So what all did y’all get into last night?” Merle asked, as he scooped some vanilla ice cream into the bowl of cobbler that he handed over to Paul.

Carol cleared her throat, and continued dipping a second bowl of cobbler meant for Daryl. Her pursed lips and slight side-eye were not lost on Merle, who swallowed his next comment and took the bowl from her.

“What was that, man?” asked Daryl.

“What?” Merle asked, trying to play dumb. 

Daryl and Paul both snickered. Merle playfully nudged at Carol’s arm when he saw Daryl take Paul’s hand. “See, I told you.” 

Carol nodded, “Yes, you were right.”

“Y’all right that down,” Merle said, then hollered into the night sky. “I was right!!!” The entire table burst into laughter. “Oh, I am getting’ some tonight!”

Carol looked back at Merle. “I think we’re both gonna get some tonight, honey.” 

Daryl and Paul started making excuses to leave, but the Dixon-Peletiers were not having it. “Y’all just got here! Tell us everything!” 

The conversation picked up with them asking about Paul’s life in LA and his return to Georgia. He and Carol picked up the dishes and took them in to clear and put in the dishwasher. Merle told a few tales about his and Daryl’s adventures. It was clear to Paul the man was a born storyteller, someone who should be recorded for posterity. Paul and Carol took some group pictures with their phones and exchanged them. They turned out really well.

“Carol, I’m serious! We should record Merle and put him on YouTube,” Paul insisted, looking back over to Merle. “Merle, you are hilarious!”

“It’s a gift, man,” Merle said, shrugging. “I can’t help it.”

Changing the subject, Carol asked, “So, what all do we need to bring to the Farm for Labor Day?” 

“Just bring yourselves,” Paul replied. His phone chimed, and he excused himself. “Apologies. It’s work. I’ll be right back.”

Merle and Daryl had opened another beer and passed one to Carol. 

“So, things are going good?” Merle asked quietly. This time, Carol didn’t stop him from prying. Clearly she wanted to know as well.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m already hell and gone, ass over tea kettle,” he confessed.

“You’re the only one who knows your heart, pookie,” Carol encouraged. “But, I have the feeling that when you let him in, he's going to be in it for the long-haul.”

“If he’s good to you, he’s got a friend in me,” Merle heartened.

“That goes for both of us,” Carol said, putting one hand over Merle’s and placing the other on Daryl shoulder. They all looked up as Paul walked back in, a smile on his face. Merle opened the last beer and handed it over.

“Perfect! Thanks!” Paul said. “Okay. To family, friends, and good news! Cheers, everyone!” The group clinked bottles and each took a swallow. He clearly had some new information and was ready to share it. He looked at Daryl. “I’ve just received clearance to tell my family and friends now that the promo picture and the spots I shot when I arrived last month are being released at midnight. The executive producers and show runner liked them so much, it’s now in a commercial that airs in about five minutes.

“What channel?” asked Carol.

“AMC,” answered Paul. 

Merle led everyone into the living room and changed the television over to the channel. The final moments of a show were playing out, and the scenes for the next episode were playing over the screen in the top corner. Next, then screen showed a bleak landscape and there was a deep bass thump. A character voice-over started, saying something about losing hope in a world where imagination is put to worrying about how the dead are relentless and the living must be feared. This world has lost its magic. Out of nowhere, Paul burst onto the screen, black leather trench coat flying, hair slinging dramatically, jumping between two zombies and two cowering figures, some kind of flash fire flying from his hands, and a slow motion aerial kick knocking a zombie’s head clean off! Paul’s voice-over counters softly, “This world needs magic more than ever.” The announcer’s voice declares, “ _Death Ascendant_ , Season 6, premiers this October on AMC.” 

“You’re on _Death Ascendant_?” Carol asked. “I’ve been too scared to watch it.”

“That’s okay, and yes,” Paul confirmed. “I'm playing this character called Merlin.”

“Oh, yeah,” Merle nodded. “That’s the one Enid and Carl was telling Sophia about.”

“I think she’s hoping he’ll be a love interest for one of the ladies on the show,” Carol explained.

Paul shrugged. “Well, she’ll have to watch and see. I can’t talk about too much character stuff until things air.”

“Them boys at _Safe Zone_ are gonna fucking flip!” said Merle. “They’re always going on about that show.”

“Yep,” Daryl nodded. “I said you’re name to Eric and Jared at the spa yesterday. They had seen you in some other stuff. I thought I was gonna have to find them a Percocet. They want us to come to dinner sometime. Jared’s boyfriend is gonna faint.” 

Paul looked a little unnerved. “I can’t be held responsible for that, right?”

“They can geek out all they want,” Daryl said, sliding his arms around Paul’s waist and pressing up behind him. 

“Don’t worry,” Paul said, turning around in the massive arms and placing his own around Daryl’s neck. “I know who’s coming home with me.” 

When they came up from the kiss, they realized Carol and Merle were still standing right there. Paul mouthed “Sorry.” 

“Don’t mind us,” Carol said, adding in a low voice to Merle. “Now, who’s right?”

“Fine, we’ll watch some,” he said back quietly. 

“And on that note,” Daryl said. “Love y’all. Night.”

Merle and Carol walked them out to the truck. Hugs were exchanged, as well as contact numbers. Merle took Paul aside while Carol made sure Daryl had a container of cobbler to take home. Paul thanked them both and assured Carol she could post his picture on her social media and tag his images, and now the show, if she felt like it, and he promised to make time for Sophia and her friends so that they could do the same.

On their way back to Paul’s place, Daryl asked, “A’ight, I know you can take care of yourself and all, but I gotta know.” He took Paul’s hand. “Did Merle give you some kinda shovel-talk there?”

Paul smiled, and shook his head. “Not at all! He was actually very complimentary,” Paul stated. “And, he said he had never seen you this happy since you were kids. He said there wasn’t Santa or the Easter Bunny. No birthday parties or cakes. He said it had been uphill and that he hadn’t been very helpful, but that he was so happy that we had met and hit it off so well.”

Daryl shook his head. “ _Damn_. Merle ain’t usually so sentimental.”

 _Carol_.

“Then out of nowhere, he hugged me and started to get a little teary-eyed,” Paul said quietly, then added, “But you can sleep well in the knowledge that he kept it together. He cares about you so much. Carol does too.” He rubbed Daryl’s knuckles with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “They’re special.” 

They drove along quietly until they reached the road to Paul’s place. 

“At the risk of sounding super clingy,” Paul said. “I want you to know that I understand if you need to head home and have some space and alone time, but I also want you to know that you’re welcome to stay the night. I don’t expect it or require it, but by god I do _want_ it, which means it will be even better the next time we’re together.”

Daryl pulled into the driveway, put the truck into park, and turned out the headlights. Then, he turned to Paul and said, “Thanks. I really want to be with you, but I think we both need a second to cool down and come back even better. Like how the best steel is tempered.”

Paul grinned, “That is a really good analogy.”

“I think so too,” Daryl said. “Hang on. I’ll walk you inside.”

They got out and stepped toward the garage, the security light coming to life as they approached. They walked up to the steps where the fluorescent bulb from the window over the sink and the illuminated doorbell button were the only sources of light until Paul found the garage light switch. 

There on the steps, he turned back, and felt Daryl’s solid arms envelope him. His well-built hunter felt warm and loving. “This ain’t goodbye, Paul. I figure you don’t like those, and I ain’t going away. I want you to get some rest, and come pick me up tomorrow. I’ll be ready.” They kissed long and tender, then Paul turned and unlocked the door. He turned back to Daryl and smiled.

“Please call me when you get home so I know you got there safe and sound?” Paul asked. 

“Yeah,” Daryl committed. “I ain’t gonna be able to sleep until I hear your voice.”

“I can make that happen,” Paul said. “See you soon.”

“M’kay,” Daryl nodded, smiling back. He started back to his truck, then turned back. Paul was watching him. “Can I bring an overnight bag for tomorrow?”

“All you need is a change of clothes,” Paul said, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a new toothbrush. 

Daryl huffed a laugh and waved as he headed to the truck, got in, waited for Paul to close up and turn out the lights, and drove to his home. When he got in, Daryl shucked off his clothes and got into bed, plugged his dying phone into the charger cable at his bedside, and dialed Paul by video call. 

Paul was lying on his stomach in the big bed. He wasn’t wearing anything, and Daryl could see the globes of his butt beyond his shoulder. Daryl sent his own view of himself with one leg outside of the covers. Paul said it reminded him of the _Showgirls_ poster. By 1:15 AM, they were both groggy, and Paul kissed Daryl goodnight before they ended the call.

Before 7:30 AM, Daryl got up, drank two glasses of water, scarfed down a multigrain protein bar, drove into the gym; he worked out hard on interval training and ran five miles. By 10:00, he come home, showered, and changed to be ready for brunch. Paul’s rental car pulled in about 11:15. The man looked good enough to eat. He wore a crisp white shirt with beige tie, tight deep, indigo jeans that showed off his killer ass and distinct bulge, cognac colored shoes, and a tan vest. His hair caught the slight breeze, looking magnificent. He smiled brightly upon seeing Daryl step out of his door, closing the house up behind him. Daryl had on dark gray jeans, a black button down shirt with matching tie, and black suede shoes. He stopped at his truck and dropped his overnight bag, gym bag, work boots, and gym shoes into it since they would have to come back by and let him drive it to Paul’s as they both had work early Monday morning. A shy smile had been fixed to his face from the moment he had seen Paul pull into his driveway. 

The mechanic never slowed his momentum as he strode right up to Paul, picked him up, and delivered a kiss hotter than the surface of the sun. Paul grabbed his man’s hips and pressed their foreheads together. “I take it you missed me, baby?”

“Fuck, yes!” Daryl rasped, his voice full of desire. “Dreamed about you all night. Tried to work it out and run it out at the gym this morning. That ain’t gonna cut it.”

“I know just what you mean,” Paul growled back. “Kata, weights, and running isn’t cutting it today. We might have to fuck in the barn after all.”

“A’ight,” Daryl joked back. “Hey, does your hot tub work?”

“Yes,” Paul answered. “I had it and the pool serviced.” He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Got something in mind?”

Daryl nodded. “There’s some things I ain’t never done before. Trying to impress you with how open to new things I’m being.” Daryl’s intense stare promised that the amenity would definitely be in use. The smile that broke forth on Paul’s face made Daryl’s chest swell. The hunter flicked his head toward the car.

“You ready?”

Paul drove them to _First Watch_ over in Newnan. They parked in the general lot and walked up toward the benches outside the restaurant. Glenn and Maggie Rhee were seated next to Hershel and Annette Greene. Beth and her boyfriend Zach were leaning against the outside wall while Shawn stood looking through the glass storefront at the waiting patrons and seated diners. In his hand was an electronic pager in the shape of a drink coaster pad that he was trying to will from its inert state. Daryl put his arm around Paul’s shoulder and Paul put his around Daryl’s waist as they ambled up to join Paul’s family. 

“Hey!” called Glenn, waving and smiling.

Daryl’s shy smile had returned. Annette was on her feet in a flash, her eyes wet and crinkling at the corners to meet her bright smile. Hershel had risen to greet them as well.

“Hey, pumpkin!” Annette said, addressing Paul. She hugged him tight, then cupped his face in her soft hands and kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy y’all could make it! Daryl Dixon, you come here to me!” Daryl returned Annette’s hug. 

“Fellas,” Hershel intoned. The man’s commanding presence was substantial to say the least. The first time Daryl had met the man, he was trying to keep Merle from bleeding out and save his hand. Later on, he’d been afraid that his coarse language and harsh demeanor from that moment might have colored the gentleman’s impression of the Dixon brothers as a whole. Nothing could have been further from the case. Saving his daughter had placed them in exalted status with the Greene patriarch. “We’re sure glad to have you both with us today. Hey, son,” he said, hugging Paul and whispering something to him, to which Paul nodded and smiled back. Then, Dr Greene turned, to Daryl and hugged him. “I hope y’all are hungry.”

“Paul!” Shawn called as he bounced over to greet his “big brother.” “I played the TV spot for everyone this morning! It’s looks so cool!” 

“Paul,” Beth said, bringing a cute, teen heartthrob along with her. “This is Zach, my boyfriend. Zach, this is my brother Paul.” 

The young man stepped up and stuck out his hand. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m meeting a real, live movie star!” 

Paul shook his hand and replied. “Just think of me as Beth’s brother.”

“And this is Daryl,” Beth said. 

“As in Daryl and Merle Dixon,” stated Zach, putting the face with the stories he had heard. 

“Daryl is Paul’s—“ Beth explained, coming to a standstill as she realized she didn’t know exactly what to say.

“ ** _Boyfriend_** ,” Daryl filled in. His arm slipped back around Paul’s shoulder as Paul’s slipped back around his waist.

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up as she backhanded Glenn’s upper arm in a “What did I tell you?” fashion. Her poor husband was rubbing his stinging bicep as she whispered a quiet “I’m sorry.” Annette and Hershel were exchanging a knowing look, their grins and good mood were infectious to the rest of their crowd. Shawn had immediately stepped up to high-five the pair and tell them all that the pager went off right as Daryl said the word “boyfriend.” Daryl and Paul huffed a shared laugh. 

Over brunch, they talked about Zach’s beginning college next week, Maggie’s latest check-up, and Beth’s upcoming try out for All-State Chorus. They covered Annette’s book club—a passion the woman had shared with her foster son. Hershel talked about getting a great deal on the fireworks for the Labor Day party in the off season and an offer the college had received from the Art Design department for a Marvel movie being produced at nearby Pinewood Studios; apparently, they wanted to use certain buildings as backdrop for industrial scenes.

As they were finishing up and enjoying another round of coffee, familiar faces came sauntering up. 

“ _Oh! My! God!_ Look over there!” Jared quipped in a stage whisper that everyone on the west side of the restaurant could hear. “Is that that handsome, hunky Daryl Dixon I see over there? Would you just look at that _hair_! Who does your hair, sir?” He was all sassy smiles. Daryl couldn’t help but huff a laugh and try to hide behind his hands in jest before standing up to hug his friend. 

A Sarah Palin clone at a nearby table full of right-wing, pseudo-religious conservatives scoffed aloud, shook her head disapprovingly at the spectacle, and voiced her disdain about “the gays being everywhere you turn around” to the members of her table; apparently she had learned to whisper in a saw mill. However, her commentary was not lost on Jared who cut his eyes her direction for just a moment before returning his attention to Daryl and Paul. Alden stood right behind Jared, and when he noticed who was standing up next to Daryl, about to be introduced, he looked like he was going to pass out. 

“O my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” he repeated, bouncing like a preschooler who was about to piss his pants.

Daryl gestured to his friends, looked to Paul, and said, “Paul, these are my friends Jared and Alden. Jared and Eric own Safe Zone Spa. They cut and fixed this mop,” he explained, running a hand through his tresses. “Guys, this is Paul Rovia. We’re—“ Daryl started, looking back at Paul.

“ ** _Together_**!” Paul said, smiling and reaching up to turn Daryl’s face to his and give him a quick kiss. 

“YASSS!!!” Jared’s immediate squeal of delight caught the attention of the entire room and most of the staff. “You go boys! We’re so happy for you two!” The tall stylist grabbed the duo, hugged them, checked out Paul’s hair, and said to Alden, “Okay, yes, boo! These are his real highlights! Excuse me, ma’am,” he stage whispered again to the nice/nasty table. “Just so you know, _this_ is what good hair care should look like. Keep working at it, hon. It's called _conditioner_. Yeah.”

While Daryl grimaced, Paul and his family swallowed their amused reactions in shock at Jared’s commentary, but everyone in the immediate vicinity noted that the nice/nasty table had gone silent. Daryl swatted at Jared to get him to retract his proverbial claws and let it go. After all, it was a celebration. Paul reached over and gave Alden a huge hug; the cute man nearly fell apart at the seams. 

“Aww! Al, it’s okay, man,” Paul said, letting Alden put his head on his shoulder for a moment and patting his head and back while the poor guy regained his composure. 

“Oh my god,” Alden said, wiping a couple of tears from his face. “I am so embarrassed.”

“No, no, no,” Paul reassured, squeezing the man’s shoulder and rubbing his arm. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I am so _incredibly flattered_. You guys are the first big fans I have met since I got back here, and I’m glad to know that you’ve enjoyed my work. It really means a lot to me.”

“Would you mind? I mean—I was wondering…” Alden tried to ask.

“Of course!” Paul said. “Where’s your phone? Shawn, would you mind taking a picture?”

“Sure, man! No problem,” his brother answered, jumping up to take Alden’s phone once he’d opened the camera app. 

Daryl and Paul got in frame next to Jared and Al and took a couple of photos. Then Paul took one with the couple and two more singles with each of them. He told Al he owed him a really nice autographed picture, and let him see as he texted the request to Siddiq to print out a nice headshot and the latest promo pic. He also scheduled a spa day with Jared for next Saturday. Then, Paul and Daryl excused themselves and hugged Jared and Al goodbye as the Greene family made their way out of the restaurant. Daryl noticed that more patrons were starting to take an interest in Paul’s presence.

While Paul was talking with Maggie and Glenn, Hershel stepped over near Daryl who had moved away from the entrance of the restaurant to light up a cigarette. On realizing Hershel had approached, he started to put it out, but the patriarch waved for him to proceed.

“Don’t worry about that none,” Hershel said. “I smoked from the time I was 17 until after I turned 50. Still have a cigar every now and then.” He paused for a second before continuing. “You know, Paul loves his work, but he had a bad time with his last relationship and ended up throwing himself into it. It was how he tried to protect himself from being hurt, to smother in his craft. I love that he loves his work, but I’d rather he never act another day in his life than to isolate himself. That might be success for some folks, but that’s not living in my book. Today—that look on his face when he’s looking at you and you’re looking back at him—I haven’t seen him smile that way in years. There’s something good going here, and I think it’s going that way for both of you.”

Daryl nodded to show he was taking in the insight Dr Greene was sharing. He checked the breeze around him to make sure he wasn’t blowing smoke into Hershel’s face or letting his smoke catch in the man’s nice Sunday suit. He felt in his pocket and found his gum. He took a couple of good drags and put his cigarette out in the sand of an ashtray outside of a dentist’s office in the complex next to the restaurant. He sniffed and exhaled to clear his lungs before he spoke. Then, he looked up and caught Hershel’s eye.

“I’ll be good to him,” he promised, looking over at Paul who was now greeting some more admirers who’d obviously witnessed their exchange inside the restaurant and were now forming a line to meet him. “I don’t have a lot of experience in all this, in relationships, but I know some things about this one: I know I ain’t never felt like this about anybody in my whole life before. I know I can relate to how he uses work to insulate himself—hell, you think I’m saving him, but he’s saving me just as much or more. I know he’s been hurt, probably bad, but he won’t want to worry me or y’all by saying so. That’s just who he is. I know I ain’t gonna let nothing else bad happen to him ‘cause he’s a good person and deserves for good things to happen to him. I know it don’t make no difference to him that I’m a damn Dixon—a pain in the ass, stubborn, white trash grease monkey who’s nearly ten years older than him, and he still thinks I’m beautiful. I know I’m super-picky when it comes to this. I been looking for the real deal and not finding it for so long, I guess I just quit looking, quit hoping. Thought I wasn’t meant to have it. Maybe I was too messed up and didn’t deserve it.” He looked up and shook his head at Hershel, “But thanks to Paul, now I know that ain’t true. He’s it for me; he’s the only one, and I know I ain’t gonna do nothing to mess it up.”

Hershel quietly listened and observed and said nothing. Daryl offered him some gum and he graciously accepted a piece. They were quiet as they unwrapped the sticks and popped them in to chew. Finally, Daryl went on.

“Paul shows me the world as—I don’t know how to best describe it—as new, a next chapter to read or a new trail to explore. Says we ain’t finding each other in the end; it’s the beginning.” Daryl glanced back over to see a lady and her daughter getting Paul to sign something. He looked back at Hershel. “I met him riding roller coasters. And I think this is gonna be the scariest and most exciting thrill ride either of us has ever been on.” Daryl’s eyes were wet with tears. “I just wanna be tall enough to ride this ride.” He sniffed and flicked his bangs out of his face. “You know what I mean?”

Hershel stepped over and slowly waited for Daryl to nod before he pulled the hunter into a hug. “Daryl, I know it may be a lot to ask, but would it be okay with you if I called you ‘Son?’” Daryl huffed a laugh of relief and returned the hug.

A trip over to Greene farm followed brunch. Daryl and Paul walked out to the stables with Hershel and Shawn. Beth and Zach were saddling up horses to go on a ride. Dr Greene was quick to remind them both to stay away from the old bog, stick to the short trails, and not tax the horses here in the heat of the summer afternoon. 

He and Paul didn’t make out in the barn, although they did peek inside the sweltering shelter. Instead, Maggie had organized a game of Cranium. She and Glenn were so in sync that they usually ran away with the score. Today, however, Paul and Daryl turned out to be the victors, with Maggie jokingly prodding at them about some kind of cheating shenanigans. 

By early evening, they had made it back to Paul’s and taken a nap together. Daryl ran out briefly to pick up a sub sandwich to split for dinner while Paul was reading script updates. When he got back, Paul had put a tray out back on the patio deck with some grapes, cheese, some peach preserves his mother had given them earlier to take home, and a bottle of wine. Daryl stepped out back, pulling the wrapped sandwich from the bag and placing it down on the patio table set. The meal was simple, but relaxing. Both men had pulled off their shirts and shoes.

Paul pulled Daryl’s feet up into his lap and started to rub them as he slid a set of stapled pages back across the table to his marvelous hunter and said, “Would you please read the parts of Mick and Davy out to me?”

Daryl picked up the script and looked over at Paul. “You sure?”

“Of course. I just want to make sure I have this right. Just start at the top with Davy,” Paul instructed.

They went through the pages seven or eight times. It was clear that Paul was good at this. He never once dropped a single line. Daryl’s affect was a bit wooden, but he had never claimed to be an actor, and he felt pleased when he realized that Paul never once reacted when he read some of the blocking and scene directions out loud and shouldn’t have done so. When he was acting, the man was like talking to someone totally different. The effect was nothing short of amazing to Daryl.

“So, this guy, Merlin, is like there to trick these guys out of their truck full of stuff?”

“Yep! He’s crafty,” replied Paul, waggling his eyebrows and continuing to knead the soles of Daryl’s feet.

“Man, that’s just wrong. No wonder this Davy guy thinks he’s a prick,” huffed Daryl. “You stole their shit!”

“Hey, I didn’t write it,” Paul laughed, hands up in mock surrender, then coming back down to ease Daryl’s feet to the ground and slip up out of his chair. He reached over and closed the script binder, then he stretched out a hand to Daryl. The mechanic took in the actor’s arched eyebrow and the sultry curve of his perfect lips and let himself be pulled up out of his chair and led over to the hot tub. He helped Paul turn back the cover and looked confusedly at the controls until Paul showed him which buttons to press. The tub lit up and a motor revved to life as bubbles began to stir the warm water. 

Paul stepped up to Daryl and reached for his belt, unfastening it slowly, deliberately. Daryl licked his lips and chuckled low. He saw a bottle of lube resting on the two towels Paul had placed on a small shelf at the back, just off of the tub. Daryl reached over to slide his fingers under Paul’s waistband and lower his man’s lounging shorts past hips, cock, and thighs, to fall freely to the concrete deck. Paul’s mouth met his, open and inviting, allow his tongue to enter and play freely. He felt the evening air on his balls. Where had that been all his life?

They eased into the tub, Daryl almost slipping on the smooth, pre-formed, fiberglass interior steps. Paul caught him and gently lowered the both of them to a formed seat for two on one side. 

He was in heaven. The high pressure jets of water pressed against his back, thighs, and legs. Others sprayed tons of bubbles that gently caressed him up to his chin. 

“This. Is. Amazing.” Daryl declared. “I could get used to this!”

“Me too,” Paul said softly. He caught Daryl’s incredibly deep blue eyes. “In fact, I’m already addicted, but not to the hot tub.”

In the next second, Paul was sitting in his lap; his naked proximity making Daryl’s already half-hard cock swell to full, wedging tight between himself and the crack of Paul’s succulent ass. Daryl eased his hands down around Paul’s hips and found him hard and ready. His young man turned his head back over his shoulder, catching Daryl’s mouth with his own. 

The kisses started slow and tender, tongues flickering, lips sucking softly. Paul sucked at Daryl’s chin and beard. Daryl shifted them out in to the center of the swirling tub. Paul slipped around to face him and lock their lips as they sank beneath the surface together. When they resurfaced, they broke for a second to catch their breaths. Paul’s eyes were bright in the light from the hot tub’s lamps. Daryl’s face had a smile that showed his perfect teeth, a smile that let Paul know he was undeniably happy. Daryl ran his hands through Paul’s hair drawing their mouths together in a forceful kiss that was raw, primal, and abounding with want and desire. Paul’s hand reached over and squeezed Daryl’s rock-hard cock.

“ ** _I love you_** ,” they uttered, the words falling from their lips and into the kiss in perfect synchronicity. They dropped back, not in amusement, but in pure acknowledgment of a moment of absolute clarity.

The roller coaster went into a grand dive.

Daryl rose to his feet, pulled Paul up, and bent him face down over the corner of the tub, then knelt down behind him. He slapped a stinging pop across his boyfriend’s right ass cheek and followed it with his tongue and kisses all over the magnificent globes.

“Oh fuck, Daryl. Oh, yes!” Paul beckoned. 

“You like being manhandled, huh?” Daryl quipped. He wasted no time. His tongue went to work teasing Paul’s hole, his hands kneading that trophy of an ass. Paul arched his back at the sensation and pressed back to give his man whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. 

Daryl’s tongue began delivering in kind on the promises he’d made with it the day before. Paul’s jaw dropped and his leg shook uncontrollably when Daryl’s hot tongue began to flutter across his hole; the act seared Paul’s soul and signed Daryl’s name as the owner. 

“Hah—aah!” Paul cried out. He reached back to brush caressing fingers lightly across Daryl’s face. The hunter took his hand and kissed the palm before returning to his mission. Paul shifted enough to try to make room for his own aching cock.

Daryl broke away for a couple of seconds to reach for the bottle of lube. He popped the top and squeezed the clear fluid onto his fingers and drizzled some on Paul’s hole, rubbing it around lovingly. 

“I want you so bad,” Paul said. The young man was panting and his voice was breathy. Daryl rubbed around and around the ring of muscle until Paul was begging him to put it in. 

Daryl slowly pushed his index finger forward, breaching the barrier and eliciting a shuddering exhale and a needy moan from Paul. 

“Holy fuck, Daryl! Please get inside me!” Paul pleaded. He arched his back as Daryl rubbed a tiny circle on his prostate. He strained to look back, and Daryl met his eyes. Paul nodded to indicate he was okay. “C’mon, baby!” 

Daryl smiled back, put a reassuring hand on Paul’s back to press him back down, and countered, “Ain’t done yet. Hold on for me,” he consoled as he added a second finger, slowly easing them in and out.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!” Paul cried out.

Daryl kissed the base of His man’s spine and used his left hand to play with Paul’s cock, teasing his thumb just under the head. He could see that Paul’s balls had drawn up close to the base of his cock. 

Daryl was about to add a third finger when Paul rose up, grabbed the lube bottle, and began to slick Daryl’s cock while kissing him furiously and breathing words into the steaming kiss. “I’m ready! I’m so ready!!! _Please_ , get inside me!”

Daryl moaned in pleasure while Paul lubed and squeezed his cock. Before the man could do it himself, he took the bottle away and bent Paul back over the corner again, getting up behind him and lining his throbbing cock up with Paul’s hot entrance. The brawny man placed a steadying hand at the small of Paul’s back and eased the exposed head of his long, thick cock into the glorious, tight warmth. Paul blew out a couple of breaths and nodded for Daryl to keep going; Paul’s groans of satisfaction were the stuff of a slutty fantasy come true. Daryl grunted as he slowly pushed all the way in, his mind and body as stirred by sensation as the water around them. He was watching Paul for any signs of resistance or needing to stop. He only got encouragement as Paul arched his back, reaching for Daryl’s hips to get him closer and deeper, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Paul nodded emphatically. “You can move. Please, you can—“

Daryl began to slide in and out carefully. At Paul’s moans of encouragement, he began to increase his pace. He leaned down onto Paul’s back, gripped Paul’s hair and his right pec, and began to thrust in earnest, withdrawing almost all the way out before re-entering, his large balls slapping with the churning water between Paul’s spread legs. Paul’s responses to Daryl’s actions were sexy as fuck. Moans and grunts issued forth, breathing became heavy and hard, and when he pulled Paul up and flipped him over, he found his young actor hard and pre-come leaking copiously. 

Heat pooled in his abdomen and groin. He was going to come soon. He reached up and took Paul’s cock in hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

“Look at me!” Daryl said, thrusting and stroking faster, his voice low and raspy. “I love you, Paul! I love you!!!”

“Daryl! I love you so much!!! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! AHH! AHHH!” Paul cried out. His grunts were just what Daryl had been looking for as his beautiful boyfriend started to come for him. “Come in me, Daryl! Come in me!” Paul’s eyes were locked with his, eyes filled with tears.

Daryl’s orgasm was mind-blowing. He released on several strong jets within his lover and cried out with each one. He pulled Paul up into a kiss, hard and powerful. Paul’s arms slipped around his neck. Daryl eased his cock out, getting a satisfied groan from Paul. They sank back into the water, relaxing and languishing in the heat. 

After Paul got them another glass of wine, he impressed Daryl with his recalled knowledge of the stars that were visible. Daryl rewarded him appropriately with a kiss each time.

An hour later, they were upstairs in bed, and Daryl came again with Paul inside him before feeling his young man release into him. He’d had no idea he could come again even harder than he had during their sport out in the hot tub, coming deep inside his beautiful man, caught up in those eyes. 

Daryl Dixon had never been in love before, and he let Paul know just how goddamn much he liked it about 1:00 AM when they went for another round. Spent and sated, he succumbed to sleep with Paul’s head on his broad chest, his beautiful man’s hair splayed out on him, feeling perfect and right.


	5. Camelback Hang Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl takes care of a difficult customer situation, Rick gives Daryl some things to ponder while Paul makes new friends on set, and they boys are ridiculously lost in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit long. I tried to divide it up, but it might have bruised the narrative so to speak. Thanks as always for the kudos, and I appreciate your comments. Happy reading!

“Yonder he comes,” murmured Merle. The big man gave a heads-up over toward Daryl’s truck as it turned off the highway and onto the side street before turning into the employee parking area behind _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_. The elder Dixon sipped his scalding hot coffee and winked back at the official standing next to him.

Daryl pulled up slow and parked in his usual space. Merle had put up two identical signs years ago to denote that the spaces on either side of the business’ back door were “Reserved for Owner.” Daryl had initially balked at the idea until he’d spoken to Carol about it. She’d convinced him that it wasn’t about Merle or him lording over their employees. Rather, it was meant as a reminder to them, each and every day, of the responsibility they had to the business. Once he understood how much that meant to Merle, he had made it a point to thank his brother for the thoughtful gesture. He also noted that from the day they went up, Merle had only been late twice in the last eight years, and both incidents had been out of his control. 

Standing next to Merle in his crisp, tan and dark brown uniform was his other brother. Rick and Merle had extra-large take-out coffees and a pastry box from _The Mean Bean_ sitting on the hood of Merle’s truck. Merle had one of Sasha’s famous apple fritters in hand, a huge bite already missing. 

Daryl switched off the engine, picked up his phone, and stalled for just a second to steel himself before he finally got out of his truck. Coming around the back of the vehicle, he glanced up at Merle; his big brother had his lips pursed and the patented Dixon squint going on. He hadn’t meant to, but Daryl caught a glimpse of Rick’s dirty-minded, know-it-all smile which was only getting wider with each step closer. The mechanic just shook his head, exhaled heavily, and looked up, unable to wipe away the full smile that was breaking across his own face like a wave on the shore. Daryl walked over between the two men and leaned against the side of Merle’s truck, exhaling heavily.

“Yo!”

Daryl nodded to both men. “Morning, Rick. Hey, man.”

“Hey, baby brother.”

Rick handed him a coffee with something written on it in Sasha’s pretty script. It read “Lucky Dog!” Daryl took a sip, looked down at the cup in his hands, and waited for the inevitable.

“Look at him! I knew it, I _knew_ it!” Rick crowed, playfully shoving Daryl’s shoulder. “You been all up in them Hollywood Hills, hadn’t you?” His laugh was too much for Merle, who snorted and couldn’t help joining the laughter.

“You know it was good, too, when he can’t hide that smile!” his brother informed.

“Fuck, yeah!” Rick jibed. “Man, you’re grinning like a mule eating briars!”

“Stop!” Daryl protested, although not with any real vehemence. “Don’t y’all got real jobs? Shouldn’t you be out arresting murderers and drug lords?”

“Oh, come on, Daryl!” Rick whined. “Talk to us.”

Daryl shook his head and said, “My private life is just that.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Daryl, for fuck’s sake,” Rick huffed. “We don’t need a blow by blow.” He grinned back, pleased with his own pun. “Just give us _something_.”

Merle looked to see how Daryl was going to take that. Instead of exploding on Rick, Daryl just smiled back. Try as he may, he was far too happy to be incensed at Rick’s teasing. 

“Tell you what,” Daryl said. “I’ll meet you for lunch over at _Short Round_. You want details, then you’re buying. See you at 12:30.”

Rick looked away and out to the road, taking in the fact that he was not going to be able to get anything out of Daryl just this second before he nodded to himself and looked back. “All right.” His knowing grin returned and bored into Daryl’s resolve.

“Damn it, Rick!” Daryl said, the smile impossible to fight from his face. 

“Don’t feel bad, _Darylina_. Carol can’t hide it neither when I’m on my game,” Merle pestered, puffing up his chest. 

“Get the fuck in there, Merle!” Daryl griped, yanking his laughing brother’s sleeve shoving Merle toward the door. “Go taste-test the anti-freeze or sump’n.” 

Merle cackled and toasted Rick with his cup on his way inside. “Thanks for the ‘joe,’ Officer Friendly!”

“Later, Merle!” Rick hollered back, then he turned to Daryl. “See y’all at 12:30. Don’t be late!” He picked up the box of fritters off the hood of Merle’s truck and handed it to Daryl. Daryl looked up and caught Rick’s face which had taken on a more thoughtful expression. “I got a feeling—a good feeling—‘bout all this for you. I think your world’s about to get a whole lot bigger, man.”

Daryl looked up at his brother, taking in his more serious tone and nodding his understanding. Rick patted his shoulder and turned to walk with him through the shop and out to the front where his official SUV was parked. 

Daryl was glad to see Morales was feeling well enough to return to work. The man swore he’d never miss getting a flu vaccine ever again! Axel and Martinez were working on a couple of tune-ups while Patrick took on an oil change and radiator flush. Nabila was already well into a transmission overhaul by 8:15 when she called Daryl and Merle over to check an issue. They both agreed with her that the transmission bands had to be replaced rather than reconditioned and adjusted. Daryl went with her to speak with the owner. They walked into the front waiting area, and Daryl realized who her client was.

“Hey, Coach?” she said, approaching the dark man in the black leather jacket. He looked up from the _Sports Illustrated_ copy he’d been reading, sighed heavily, and dropped it back on the table with the various and sundry periodicals the shop kept on hand to entertain waiting clients who weren’t interested in watching morning news shows and soap operas on the two flat screen televisions.

“Oh, Nabila,” said the man, drawing himself up out of the chair to stand at his full height. A week’s worth of gray stubble was bristling on his face. “Whenever a mechanic comes in to see you in the middle of a repair, it is never good sign. Just give it to me straight.”

“All rightie,” the young lady said, trying not to sound nervous under the looming man. “The transmission bands should not be reconditioned. They should be replaced,” she said. “They’re already worn to the point that if you keep going, the slipping will increase, and eventually, it’ll cost you a whole transmission.”

The coach who currently held the record for the most All-State Varsity wins in the state of Georgia put his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “How much more will it cost me?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even.

“Well—“ Nabila started to explain.

“Nothing,” Daryl answered for her. “Coach, we told you we'd do a job for you. It ain't your fault if we can’t deliver it, and you should be compensated if it costs you more wait time. This happens, but our job is to make it right.” He motioned with his head for Nabila to go make the replacement happen while he took care of this.

Coach Negan looked over at Daryl. His eyes were wary, yet a slow smile crept up, and he sort of leaned back and bounced himself forward into motion with a grunt. 

“I can pay, Daryl,” he warned.

“And you will,” Daryl nodded. “Ain’t no question about that.”

Negan squinted and then sighed. He knew he couldn’t intimidate a Dixon on his home turf. 

“Let’s go ahead and get this settled out, and then I’ll get one of the guys to drop you back off,” Daryl suggested. When Negan got closer, Daryl lowered his voice, “I can even have Patrick take you guys to Emory and wait, if you like.“

Negan shook his head; he looked tired. Daryl knew the man had been living on waiting room coffee and vending over at the Winship Cancer Treatment Center at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta. Ms Lucille was the light of his life, and she had stage four breast cancer. Sometimes she could get her infusion therapy closer, but often her treatments were specialized and had to be monitored as they made her terribly sick.

“She’s doing home hospice,” he sighed, his voice resigned. “She chose not to go through any more treatments. They’re just too much for her. She can’t…”

“Coach—“

“Yeah, it fucking sucks goddamn donkey ass!” the man shouted, then closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Daryl knew exactly what frustrated rage felt like. He punched up the ticket on the computer.

“Three sixty-two, man,” he said. 

“Thanks, Daryl,” he said, handing over a credit card. Daryl swiped it, saw the decline report, and quietly entered the write-off code. He selected the printer font to extra light and printed a receipt for Negan to sign. The man didn’t read it but signed by rote on the line where Daryl had marked an “X.” Daryl quickly took the paperwork back and filed it, signing it “special” for the daily receipts.

He finally talked Negan into accepting a ride home, dropped him off, and spoke to Lucille, volunteering to drop by to pick them up to go to the Greene’s Labor Day party. Ms Lucille had put on a good face and promised she’d go, which meant Coach would too.

When he got back to the shop, he checked his phone and had a couple of video messages from Paul. The first was of Paul going into the security gate with his cool, new lanyard and security badge. The next was him in the make-up chair getting smoky “guy-liner” similar to Captain Jack Sparrow along with dirty hands and nails. Miss Bertie would not have approved. The last one was of Paul speaking with two guys Daryl presumed to be “Mick” and “Davy” from the upcoming scene they had practiced last night. The three of them were acting out parts of a fight scene, and Paul was so excited to share it with Daryl. His last words were, “This is for your eyes only. So, shh! Love you! This jacket is fucking sweltering. I’m sweating like a whore in church.” Daryl watched the videos a couple of times and laughed to himself. 

“Hey,” Merle said, walking in to hand off paperwork. He turned to one of the clients. “You’re all good to go, Jim! Key’s in the truck.”

“Thanks, Merle! You guys are life savers!” said the lanky man in the worn, denim cap. Jim paid Daryl in cash, got his change, and tipped Merle a ten. Merle slipped it into a general tip jar beneath the counter to be split between the employees at the end of the day.

“You get Coach home okay?” Merle asked.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, and you should know I did something,”

Merle’s interest was suddenly piqued. 

“I wrote-off his bill,” Daryl confessed. “His card declined. I know he makes good money, but he may not be keeping up with his finances the way he should. Bet you anything Lucille took care of the check book.”

“Mmhmm,” Merle hummed in agreement and shook his head. “Considering what Dale had to pay out of pocket for Miss Erma’s treatments, Negan may be behind on some stuff,” Merle surmised. “But I ain’t sore ‘bout it, man. How much was it?”

“With the parts and labor comes to right at twenty-one eighty-eight. It can come outta my check.”

“Fuck that, little brother!” Merle said. “You got bills too. Just take it off against our year-end bonuses.”

“Nah, man,” Daryl balked. “This was on me. I should’ve asked you first. I just didn’t want him to go ballistic in front of the other customers considering the strain he must be under. She’s doing home hospice now. Got him to agree to let me and Paul take them with us over to Hershel’s next Monday. It’s 12:20. You ready?” 

“I’m gonna help Nabila get Coach’s ride out to his place, and then I’m having lunch at 1:00 with my lady,” Merle replied. 

“Shit, bring her too,” Daryl plotted. “Make Rick sorry he poked fun at your own flesh and blood by paying for everybody.” They walked through the shop together as Daryl headed to the back door. A sudden thought hit him. “Hey! What’d you do that you need to take Carol to lunch?”

Merle sighed. “Can’t _I_ be the thoughtful, sexy Dixon for once?” he griped. Daryl knew Merle’s tells, and he was sure his brother had done something to warrant an apology as he was also well aware that Carol usually made her own lunches. Daryl turned on the Dixon stare.

“Fine!” Merle groused and began his explanation. “We started watching that _Death Ascendant_ show that your other half’s in on Netflix yesterday morning. I gotta say, man: It’s pretty fucking good too. Of course, she’s there watching it through her fingers half the damn time, but I didn’t mind; I just snuggled up to her to keep her safe and maybe make her jump a little ‘cause, you know, zombies love to give love bites.” Merle’s goofy smile got a head shake from the younger Dixon. 

“You’re a real giver, Merle” Daryl deadpanned. 

“Piss off!” Merle huffed. “Anyhow, we got all the way through the first season, since it was pretty short, and through most of the second season before Carol had to go pick up Sophia. Then, they had to _run by the mall in Newnan_ to _get her a new jacket_ and _stop by the garden store_ to _find some sun catchers for fall_ and then _grab some dinner to bring home_. Well, I'm just saying: all that shit took a good damn while…”

Daryl began to laugh. “Oh, you _asshole_! How many episodes did you watch without her, man?”

Merle looked guilty and sighed. “I’m two episodes into Season 3,” he confessed. Daryl’s clap and resultant laughter rang out the back door as they exited. 

“You T-total _shit_! Yeah, this is gonna require _Longhorn_ ,” Daryl agreed jokingly.

“Already gave her that, thank you sir!” Merle snapped back, chuckling to himself before he got more somber. “But, nah. As for today, I know you, little brother. You need a chance to talk with Rick, and quite frankly, I think he needs to talk to you too. He ‘bout blew up my fucking phone while you were napping all day Saturday and ‘ _tasting the rainbow_ ’ all day and night yesterday over at _Hollywood’s_ place. Thought I was gonna have to get Michonne to hide his phone.” Merle’s half smile indicated he hadn’t really been annoyed; Daryl knew that even though they’d had a rocky start, Rick and Merle were kindred souls at heart. “Point is, there’s gonna need to be some adjusting to the fact that you done found a new star in the night sky; and baby brother, you can’t look away from it to _save your life_.”

Daryl nodded his understanding. “Rick’s gonna be okay. Hell, he’ll probably be ribbing me about this for a while.” He truly appreciated that Merle was looking out for both himself and Rick. In his way, Merle was looking out for Paul too, and that meant the most.

“Mmhmm, he will, on both counts. Now, y’all go catch up,” Merle instructed, as he touched Daryl’s elbow and turned to walk back into the shop. 

Daryl started walking across the side street and up onto the sidewalk. His pace was enough to get to the pizzeria just at 12:31. Rick was already seated inside, and on seeing Daryl enter, the sheriff pointedly held up his left wrist and tapped his watch with his index finger. 

Daryl huffed a laugh and sat down across from his brother. Rick’s face was more contained and serious. It was reminiscent of how it had been a few days earlier when he’d talked Daryl into eating inside the amusement park. 

“Hey,” Daryl said, taking off his cap and Wayfarer shades and dropping them on the table next to Rick’s mirrored Aviators. Truth be told, Daryl kind of missed Rick’s old deputy hat with the metallic gold cords, but the man had given it to his son the day he’d been elected to Sheriff. 

“Hey, man,” Rick answered. “Where’s Merle? He get tied up at the shop?”

“He’s making up to Carol for binge watching a show without her,” Daryl explained. 

“Uh-oh,” Rick laughed. “He’ll learn.” 

“I hope so,” Daryl shrugged. “But that’s him and his red wagon.”

The new manager Glenn had hired was an outgoing young guy named Nicholas. He had gotten to know the men as regulars and found out that Glenn considered them VIP customers, so he had taken to making sure he served them personally whenever he was able. They each ordered the lunch special of a Greek salad, two specialty slices, and sodas. Nicholas dropped off the drinks, with a couple of garlic knots on the house, and dashed back into the kitchen. Over the next few minutes the guys made some more small talk while they waited on their salads and slices. 

“So,” Rick prompted. “Is Paul working today?”

Daryl nodded, removed the paper from his drinking straw and started fiddling with it.

“Did you figure out what he’s working on?” Rick asked. 

“Mmhmm,” Daryl grunted.

“Oh-kay. Did you guys like _Barrington House_?”

Daryl nodded again, eyes still lowered. 

Rick blinked, eyebrows rising in anticipation of more. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “So, are you actually going to articulate anything at all?” Rick inquired patiently. Daryl looked back up at his friend, his brother. 

“I’m in love,” Daryl blurted out. 

Rick leaned back, eyes wide. “Uh, whoa! Daryl—wow! Don’t you think that’s kind of fast? I mean, you just met him like four days ago.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed. “Don’t mean it ain’t true. Don’t mean it’s not real.”

“Have you told him?” Rick asked, looking concerned.

Daryl explained. “We went out Friday evening. Jared and Eric made me look presentable. Had to call him up because I fucked up the reservation time, but he said it was fine to come by early. He’d show me his house.”

A crooked smile grew across Rick’s face. “Did he need you to help him move a bed?”

Daryl’s glare cut across the table. “You gonna hear me out or not?”

“Whoa,” Rick said, his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, really. Go on.” Daryl stared down again and fiddled with the straw paper to keep from biting on his thumbnail. He had expected a certain amount of teasing from Rick, but Daryl wanted his brother to know the way he really felt about Paul and that Paul reciprocated those feelings. 

“I got to his place.” Daryl swallowed and looked back over at Rick who was listening intently. “Rick, when he opened the door, I thought I was gonna have a heart attack or something. Just die right there on the steps in his garage.” 

Rick sat in silence, taking in every word. His sharp light blue eyes were watching Daryl’s every movement.

“Went to that new _Barrington House_ place—it was fucking awesome, by the way, but just be sure to take your big boy wallet with you—and then we got coffee at the _Bean_. Got Sasha and Ty to open up special just for us,” Daryl said. 

“ _Very_ cool move,” Rick noted. “How’d he like it?”

“Well, I mean—he stuck around!” Daryl laughed and simpered. “Thing is, the longer we walked, the more we said. The more we said, the more we both wanted to know. We told each other things about our pasts. Rick, I told him shit I ain’t ever told you or Merle.”

Rick sat still, his brows furrowed in concern; he looked down at the table for a moment before nodding his understanding. Daryl could see he was hurt and trying to hide it with a smile. “That’s—that’s good, right?”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” Daryl said. “I promise. Just not right here. Okay?” 

Nicholas dropped off their salads.

“I accept that,” Rick said, nodding before inhaling sharply through his nose and looking out toward the plate glass storefront, then returning his attention directly to Daryl. The mechanic could see that Rick was trying to gather his thoughts and say the right thing, respond the right way. “Whenever you’re ready. I just want you to know that you can always tell me _anything_. Merle too. For god’s sake, we love you, and nothing’s ever gonna change that.” He reached over and put his hand on Daryl’s forearm. The moment was very touching until Rick added, “Not even that you’re lost in the ‘Bermuda Triangle of Love’ with a sexy, hot, _young_ thang fresh off of Greene Farm!" Even though it meant more teasing, the redneck was relieved to see a smile had crept back onto his brother's features.

Daryl couldn’t help himself, huffing a laugh and shaking his head at Rick. “Thanks, asshole!” he groused jokingly through gritted teeth as he snatched up his table knife, grabbed Rick’s wrist, and pulled him closer across the table to mime stabbing him to death. 

“Hey! I am _armed_ ,” Rick said in mock umbrage. “Okay, so y’all walked and talked. C’mon, man, get to the good stuff and thangs! I mean, hell—the dude does have some pretty lips,” his brother teased, bobbing his head forward and poking out his left cheek with his tongue. 

Daryl kicked at him under the table. “Stop! It wasn’t like that,” Daryl countered. 

Rick grimaced and rubbed his shin under the table. “Ow!”

“You deserved that,” Daryl scoffed, then went on reminiscing. “We talked about stuff that happened in our lives, what we wanna do, what we like. We’re a whole lot alike,” Daryl explained. “I felt so good—just being with him.”

Rick tore apart one of the garlic knots and bit into it. He nodded his understanding.

“You know I been out with some guys. I’ve even fucked a couple, but… Shit, Michonne set me up with that friend of hers and Anne’s. You remember? The artist guy who lives out in Conyers? Eric and Aaron introduced me to the new editor-in-chief at the newspaper?” 

“Spencer Monroe? He’s gay?” asked Rick. 

“He’s bi,” Daryl answered. “Don’t worry, he’s out. Now, he’s dating Andrea’s sister, Amy.”

“Oh,” Rick said. He was letting Daryl come to his point.

Daryl shook his head in frustration. “For fucks sake, Jared and Alden even offered, and I turned ‘em down. Kinda felt bad about it, but I didn’t want to mess up our friendship or what they have, even though their kinda open. Plus, I love ‘em, just not like the way I feel it with Paul.” 

Rick hadn’t known that, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. He was actually more surprised that Daryl hadn’t at least tried, but hearing his brother’s words, he understood why.

“None of them _got_ me, man,” Daryl continued. “We weren’t on the same wavelength, you know? But with Paul, I feel like something that's always been missing for me is there now—like I’m whole. It’s scary and exciting and glorious all at the same time, like when a roller coaster gets to the top of a hill, and you feel like your gonna fly outta the seat for that tiny moment. It may sound stupid and corny, but it’s what I feel.”

Rick nodded his comprehension. “I get it, man. So what happened next?”

Daryl told his brother about making the first move. Rick’s eyebrows shot toward the ceiling yet again; this was definitely a different side of Daryl. Rick listened as his younger brother gave every detail possible about the first kiss, and the fact that Paul rides, and that they both feel like they fit together well. 

Nicholas dropped off their slices and topped off their drinks.

“Phillip never gave you up, by the way,” Daryl confided. “But I knew who’d been by.”

Rick had a blank “Who me?” expression. Clearly he should try to keep his day job because he wasn’t going to be acting on television with Paul any time soon. 

“Thanks for all that,” Daryl said, finally realizing he had food in front of him and picking up his fork to dive in. 

“Anytime,” Rick smiled back and dug into his own plate.

Daryl told him about lying under the stars with Paul, walking around at the airport, and listening to their favorite music. He mentioned that Paul had a very good singing voice. 

“Tara told me she saw your truck, but you never replied to her text,” Rick said, following with a sip of his drink and a sly look over the rim of the glass. 

Daryl rolled his eyes. “We wasn’t fucking at the King County Airport!”

The booth next to theirs had apparently overheard Daryl’s indignation because one of the customers did a spit take and the other two diners broke out into laughter, which they were trying—and failing miserably—to contain. Daryl just looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, then turn his attention back to his food and Rick.

“He did play my favorite song. Picked it outta fucking nowhere, too, right off my phone,” Daryl said like it was a miracle of biblical proportion. Then he added shyly, “Showed me how to dance.”

Rick started to reach across the table as if to take Daryl’s temperature and check for fever. Daryl almost stuck him with a fork.

He relayed the events that happened at breakfast with the overzealous reporters. Rick did not look amused. He did assure Daryl that they should call they department if either of them had any problems with the paparazzi. Daryl nodded his acceptance.

“We ended up sleeping together at his house—Just. Sleeping.” Daryl said, shaking his head to cut off any comment from his brother. “I hadn’t slept that well in years. Oh! And he’s got those Roomba robots that run around and vacuum up shit every so often. Place is super neat.”

“Oh, dear god!” Rick jeered. “ _Now_ , I see the attraction. You both live in pristine museums!” Rick had always picked at how fastidious Daryl kept his place. Daryl thought Rick really had no room to talk as he and Michonne were also in the “neat nut” category.

“Stop!” Daryl scoffed. “After that, we got up, went to the store, and ended up having a late dinner at Merle’s.”

“That ass hat!” Rick griped. “He said his phone was on the charger.”

Nicholas came over to check on them and drop off their checks. Rick picked up both. 

“Saw Paul’s new promo spot or commercial or whatever you call it on TV,” Daryl declared. “He’s gonna be on Michonne and Carl’s favorite show.”

“What? For real?” Rick said. “Paul’s gonna be on _Death Ascendant_?”

“Oh! My! God!” yelped a young girl who had hopped up from the table behind them. Neither Rick nor Daryl had any idea if she’d been the one who’d suffered through the spit take. She was wild-eyed and very animated with her hands; she couldn’t have been more than thirteen. “Are you talking about the Paul Rovia? The guy who played Jesus on _Heisenberg Theory_ , now Merlin?”

Rick looked at Daryl to take the reins and respond to the young lady. Daryl looked back to Rick, who gave him nothing; Daryl glared daggers at his brother—to Rick’s total amusement—then softened his face with effort, and looked back to the girl. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “That’s him.”

Rick was trying to stifle his own chuckle.

“You know him?” Another teen had joined.

“Yeah, I do,” Daryl nodded. 

Their questions came flying out in a blur. Daryl couldn’t keep up, and Rick was no goddamn help whatsoever, having fallen over in the bench booth and slapping his hand loudly on the cushion.

“He’s real nice,” Daryl assured them. 

_“Is he going to be Darren’s boyfriend or Davy’s?” “Is that his_ real _hair or does he use a flat iron?” “Does he have a girlfriend?” “He’s not really gay, is he?” “All the hot ones are gay, but I don’t mind.”_

“I don’t know anything about his job other than that he’s on the show as Merlin,” Daryl said honestly. “As for the rest, that’s why god made the Internet, I reckon.”

“Girls,” Rick said, having contained himself. “I have met Mr Rovia, and I know that his private life is exactly that: private.” Daryl cut his eyes to Rick as he heard his own words from that morning come flying from the man’s lips. Rick just gave a half-smile to Daryl and looked back to address the girls, “As for the show, y’all are just gonna have to watch just like the rest of us. Y’all run along now.”

“Okay, Sheriff,” the oldest girl said. “Oh! Would you tell Carl that Lizzy said ‘Hey!’?”

Rick nodded and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I sure will, Lizzy. Bye for now.” He waved and the girls slipped back into their booth, chattering away. Rick handed the checks and his debit card over to Nicholas, and once the Bill's were paid, he and Daryl walked out to get into the King County Sheriff’s SUV parked outside. 

“Glad you ain’t one of them asshole cops who leaves the fucking engine running outside a restaurant so they can get back into a cool car after they eat,” Daryl spouted.

Rick huffed a laugh. “I had to tell Shane he couldn’t do that anymore on my first day in office.”

Daryl cackled in laughter. “I can see him now, fuming and rubbing the back of his head like a maniac.”

Rick rolled down the windows and drove out of the lot. Daryl could tell the question was coming. He waited while Rick drove along down Main Street and away from his shop.

“So, how did yesterday go?” Rick said. He was trying to get Daryl to commit. Fine.

“He had asked me out to brunch with the Greene’s, then over to their farm,” Daryl answered. “Talked to Hershel. He and Annette are real happy Paul is back here. They were all pretty happy about it.”

Rick nodded and slowed to stop for the railroad crossing as a train slowly trundled past on the tracks before them.

“Then we went back to my place, he dropped me off so I could pick up my truck, and I went and got us a sandwich and met him back over to his house,” Daryl continued, and laughed remembering. “We ate, and then he had me help run his new lines with him.”

“Hey, that’s cool!” Rick stated. “You know if Carl and Michonne find out, they’re gonna wanna know what’s gonna happen.”

“They got a million dollars?” Daryl asked, eyebrows raised. Rick’s look of shock was immediate. “‘Cause if not, he ain’t saying shit. Non-disclosure agreement says that’s how much he’d have to pay if he tells.”

“You’re shitting me. What about you?” Rick sniped. “He let you read his lines.”

Daryl shrugged. “Guess I’m worth more than a million dollars to him.”

Rick tilted his head and nodded, “Could be.” He eased across the tracks after the train moved past and sped out of the city limits. 

“He’s real good too,” Daryl added. “He can make you think he’s somebody else completely.”

Rick nodded more as they drove along out toward Griffin. 

“Man, where’re we going?” Daryl piped up. “I got shit to do back at the shop.” He waited for Rick to answer, but none came. “Seriously, man, are you kidnapping me or something?”

“There,” Rick said, slowing to a stop and motioning with his head to indicate the open fair grounds field off to the right near Wynn’s Pond. Rick pulled onto the shoulder of the road and came to a stop. 

Rick cut the engine and got out quietly. He walked over a buried culvert to an overgrown access trail that was cordoned off by a steel cable between two wooden posts. Rick looked back to Daryl, still sitting in the big, white Chevy Tahoe, and gestured for him to get out and follow. He was starting to get frustrated, but he just sighed and got out to follow Rick into the tree line. 

“What the fuck are we doing out here?” Daryl said, voice starting to rise.

“Shh! Keep it down!” Rick shushed.

“Let’s _go_ , man!” said Daryl, now getting truly over this.

“Hey, will you _just_ keep it quiet and look through there?” Rick said in a quiet yet frustrated voice of his own that could only come from a strange mix of years of practiced shenanigans and parenting.

Through the brush, Daryl could see out into the field.

“What?” Daryl said, now completely irritated. 

Rick shushed him again. “Just watch a second. Here.” Rick handed him a pair of field binoculars he’d apparently brought with him from the SUV. Daryl realized that he’d been too annoyed with Rick to notice he’d brought them. Rick pointed over to where there was some activity in the field. 

Daryl turned back to look at where Rick was pointing using the binoculars. He was just about ready to go back, take Rick’s vehicle, and leave him here, even if it landed him in jail. 

Then, he saw it: a slow moving pick-up truck ambled through the open field, followed by a figure in a black trench coat, long hair flying in the wind.

_Paul!_

His beautiful man was running full-out, zig-zagging left and right, evading someone or something. Two rugged-looking men came racing along after, each trying to flank Paul, who dodged and outpaced them at every turn. Further down the field, they could see a tent set up, and near it a moving truck, another camera set up, and an ancient tractor with thresher unit that people were sticking fennel stalks into and around and spraying with watered-down mud. 

_They’re making it look like it’s been there for years. Real Hollywood magic._

“You knew what show Paul was in the whole time.”

“Glenn can’t keep a secret,” Rick reminded.

“How’d you know about this place, man?” Daryl asked, finally whispering and still watching his man get chased around for a few moments. After a couple of minutes, a man in the truck yelled out “Cut!” and everyone took a break; Daryl could see the television camera, two operators, and a guy he assumed must be the director in the cargo bed. He could see Paul shedding the long trench coat immediately and laughing with the other two men. Those arms had held him last night.

“Shane’s up ahead,” Rick explained, snapping him back into the moment. “He drew the short straw today, so he’s making sure no traffic is getting into the main drive other than the production crews. We'd talked about your new man, and when he saw your fella get here, he radioed in.”

Daryl stood and looked sheepish. “Thanks, man.”

Rick looked away for a second before shaking his head. “No problem, brother.”

They made their way back to town, and Rick pulled into the parking lot in front of the shop. Daryl checked his phone and showed Rick the new video of Paul saying he’d stolen Connor Reedus’ and Andy Kennedy’s truck before noon, and now they were all doing calisthenics al fresco as they chased him around and around in a field. 

“I’m going to need a soak in the hot tub, and I am definitely going to need some healing hands,” Paul said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, man! Are you making a video for Daryl?” asked the guy Daryl assumed to play “Davy.” “Can I be in this, and can we send this to my son, Murphy, too? I want to show him I really do work with Jesus.”

 _They know who I am. He’s told them already._

Daryl’s smile was unstoppable. 

“Oh! Can I be in it too? By the way, my wife and my mum love you, Paul!” said “Mick?” The guy had a strong British accent. Who knew? The man looked into the camera and put an arm across Paul’s shoulder. “Just want to say how much we love having Paul working with us. We all feel much holier now, and he’s already fitting in fantastically.”

“Uh, how old is Murphy?” asked Paul. 

“Man, he’s like sixteen going on sixty, so he’s way more mature than me,” explained Connor, also throwing an arm around his new pal and looking back into the camera. 

“Then, yes we can!” Paul laughed, and got them all in the frame. 

“So, Daryl, man. I hear you and your boyfriend here like to ride bikes. We need to get together and talk about a really cool project I have going on. And by the way, _everybody_ is in love with Paul, including me and Andy, and honestly, I am like the last person to get close to new people on set. We are all so _fucking jealous_ of his hair and beard game. Look, who the fuck can walk out into the Georgia humidity and look like he just had a blowout? Murphy, this is the hair you want, buddy. Anyway, we can’t wait to meet you, Daryl, because Paul tells us that when it comes to you, he won the boyfriend lottery.”

“ _Power-Mega balls boyfriend lottery_!” Andy emphasized, his clip, British accent both adorable and endearing. “I don’t know what that means exactly, but I get the distinct impression that it’s absolutely _fucking fantastic_!” His laugh was as rich as his accent.

Daryl couldn’t wait to get his adorable man back into his arms and give him his winnings for the rest of his life.

“Hey, I live in New York City, man; I know _exactly_ what he means! Hmm-hmm-hmm!” Connor hinted and smirked lasciviously, his joking tone and teasing chuffs suggesting to Daryl that he could guess most accurately as to what Paul meant. The handsome mechanic could see Paul’s mouth fall open, then break into an unstoppable grin, and his cheeks start to burn red. Connor and Andy hadn’t missed it either. “Oh my god! Look at that grin! Man, Daryl, you are the _man_! You guys have fun tonight, and we really look forward to meeting you!” 

Paul looked back into the camera and said, “Well, okay then! I am actually working with your dad, Murphy. I look forward to meeting you, as well as Andy’s wife and mom, maybe at a convention or at the premiere. And Daryl, I love you, and can’t wait to see you tonight. I have an evening shoot, but I hope we can wrap up around 10:00 or so. Sorry, it’s going to be so late, but I will see you soon. Oh, and you have a present coming. Bye for now.”

His fellow actors were back in frame, heads all close together and screaming ‘bye’ from beside him, Andy waving while Connor stuck out his tongue as if the lick the screen. Daryl sighed, realizing he was grinning like an idiot. Rick was giving him the side-eye. 

“Okay,” Rick admitted. “I’m gonna need insulin soon.”

“Rick Grimes! As many times as I heard you and ‘Chonne giggling, and batting eyes at each other, not to mention the time I caught her riding you like a horse at the Kentucky Derby! In the backseat of my truck, no less!” Daryl exclaimed. “You have absolutely no room to talk, buddy.”

Rick was turning red himself. “Are you ever gonna not mention that?”

Daryl looked out the window at his shop. He still hadn’t gotten out yet, and they both knew why. Rick was worried that he and Paul were moving too fast. Daryl got that, but he needed Rick to understand that he didn’t have to worry, that Paul felt the same as he did, that they would be adult enough to handle things, that they would be able to work through any obstacles. The younger Dixon didn’t want to have to think negatively when they had just found their beginning. What if the passion suddenly cooled? What if Paul came to his senses and realized that Daryl wasn’t in his same league? Those were things he’d worried about before. Now, being with Paul melted away his insecurities, and he always felt uplifted and desired.

“Never done it in a hot tub,” Daryl admitted quietly. Rick’s head snapped up, brows arched in curiosity. “Hell, never even in a shower. Not ‘til Paul. I can barely get to all five fingers counting the number of people I’ve been with. Every time it was just awkward as fuck, nerve-wracking, wondering if I’m doing something wrong, or if I’m any fucking good at all. With Paul, it was like I knew every single thing he wanted, and I knew that everything I did made him hot.”

Rick’s police radio cut through the moment with the dispatcher reporting a wreck out on Highway 16. The Sheriff looked at Daryl, the apology unspoken for having to cut this short, but both men had to get back to their jobs. 

As Daryl opened the door and started to slip out of the SUV, Rick caught his arm and said, “I’m glad you’re happy. I _mean_ it.”

“Thanks, Rick,” Daryl said, and with that, he exited the vehicle as its lights began to strobe and the siren cut through the air. In an instant, Rick was gone, and Daryl was unsure exactly how that conversation had ended. He wasn’t even sure that it had, but at least he felt positive about where they had left it.

The mechanic spent the rest of the day working at a steady pace. That afternoon, he got a huge offer on a 1992 Kawasaki Ninja 600R he had bought from a junkyard and restored to perfect condition. It was more than enough to make up for what he’d written off earlier. It had just been a pet project to Daryl anyway, something to do to fill the hours. Now that he had an official boyfriend who would be taking care of that duty when they weren’t both working. He had let Carl help him with some with the restoration just to teach him a few things, and he knew Carl thought that the bike might be his one day; Daryl knew that Rick wouldn’t go for that since the boy had already wrecked his dirt bike twice and almost lost his right eye in the last accident. A bike of this type, with its power and speed, would be inviting trouble. Plus, he could imagine the death-match scene that would play out when Lori Walsh and Michonne would eventually show up as a tag team pair. Daryl knew better, and in the end, this sale proved his and Paul’s point: good people deserved for good things to happen to them. Coach Negan could be a true hellion to contend with, but Daryl understood exactly what it was like to deal with pain and anger for so long. Maybe this had helped them both in some small way.

“Daryl?” called Martinez. Daryl looked up from underneath the hood of the 2009 Honda Civic he was working on. “There’s some guy named ‘Siddiq’ here to see you, man. Says he’s got something he can only deliver to you.” Daryl blinked. Martinez looked at him expectantly with wide eyes and a perplexed yet curious smirk. 

Daryl pulled the mechanic’s cloth from his back pocket and wiped his hands as he sauntered into the front office area. Siddiq stood there with a small box. 

“Hey, Daryl!” the young man said, reaching out to the mechanic and shaking hands. “Paul wanted me to drop this off specifically to you. Gotta run! Paul’s car is being delivered today, so I have to get it to him at the set. Bye!” And with that, Paul’s assistant was off like a shot. 

“Thanks, Siddiq!” Daryl called and the man wave back on his way out.

Daryl was intrigued as well. He opened the small box. Inside was a note, a garage door opener, and a _Death Ascendant_ keychain. It was some kind of merchandise, probably from the souvenir shop down the street. On the keychain were three keys. One was a _Royal Enfield_.

_Hell yeah!_

One was a Mazda.

_Paul’s new car? Sweet!_

One was a house key. Daryl swallowed and sighed happily, his chest swelling and a smile breaking over his features. 

The note read:

**_Hey, Gorgeous!_ **

**_Here’s my house key. The alarm code is 0169. My bike is being delivered today. Please feel free to take it out for a spin this week and let me know whatever it needs. You can park in the garage. Have an early call tomorrow, but I really want to be with you tonight if you feel up to it. Hope you liked the videos. I need you so bad, Daryl._ **

**_All my love,_ **

**_Paul XO_ **

**_P.S. Tell Merle I said “Hey!” and I’m working on drumming up business for you guys!_ **

One the back of the note, Paul had drawn a cartoon-ish semblance of a winning lottery ticket. I need you so bad. Daryl’s heart pounded like a drum and his cock stirred.

“Who was that?” Merle asked, coming in to see what Daryl was up to.

“Siddiq,” Daryl answered, still looking at the note and keys. “Paul’s assistant.”

“He’s got an assistant? Shit, can he loan him out?” Merle griped. “We could use a guy like that.”

“Be more productive and we can hire one!” Daryl clapped back!

“You so funny, _Darylina_!” Merle groused. “You should be on late night. Late, late, _late_ night!”

“I might be on _something_ late tonight,” Daryl said, letting Merle read the note. He could tell from Merle’s face when he looked up that he was excited about the motorcycle too. “I’ll text him. If he’s cool with it, then yes, you can ride it too.”

Daryl worked on after the shop closed, even after Merle left. He stayed over to finish some additional jobs since he knew Paul would be very late getting home. He had promised Merle that he would call him when Paul answered his text, provided his beautiful actor got the chance. Daryl figured that he probably had his phone off—or at least on silent mode—while they were filming. When he had completed even the two alignments which had been dropped off to be taken in first thing the following morning, he figured it was time to stop. Paul had texted him that it was cool for Merle to ride his motorcycle, and he would be leaving work in about thirty minutes. It was already 9:55 PM according to the wall clock. Daryl rushed to put away his tools, grabbed the box with the keys and remote, locked up, and set his shop alarm on his way out to his truck. On his way, he called Merle and told him about the text. They agreed it was too late this evening, but tomorrow afternoon was fair game. Daryl also ran by his place on the way to Paul’s; his boyfriend’s place was spacious, but the cupboards and pantry were still rather bare. He picked up a few spare essentials for the night: food items, some clothes in an overnight bag, and his motorcycle helmet. In no time, he was watching Paul’s garage door open and pulling in to park. A gleaming _Royal Enfield_ motorcycle in candy-apple red was stowed up near the front wall under the kitchen window. Daryl took just a moment to admire it before getting his things and opening the interior door. The alarm beeped several times as he keyed in the code on the wall panel. The lights were on in the kitchen, family room, and the master bedroom, or so it appeared from downstairs. Setting down the grocery bags, he could see the light was on and steam was billowing from the hot tub. 

Daryl noticed that the place had been cleaned; he’d remembered their meal remnants had been abandoned last night while they were caught up in each other. He hoped it hadn’t attracted ants. Then, Daryl recalled Paul telling him that the housekeeper came every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He found the plates, serving board, and corkscrew waiting in the drying rack. 

Daryl put the eggs, milk, bacon, and butter he’d brought into the refrigerator. He miraculously found a couple of pans, a mixing bowl, a spatula, and a measuring cup. Next, the adorable redneck pulled out the flour, sugar, coffee, salt, baking powder, and syrup and placed them on the counter. He had just completed a perfect stack of pancakes and some crispy strips of bacon, and put them on a stoneware plate to stay warm in the oven when he heard the garage door open. Daryl heard noise from outside: a car pulling in, the engine cutting off, a door opening and closing, Paul’s complete elation at his bike having arrived, and the opening and closing of the back door. The brawny man smiled to himself as he carefully watched the bubbles form on the last pancake. A pair of strong hands and arms slid around his middle; they belonged to the most beautiful man on earth, and they were holding him as Paul’s head perched up on his shoulder, his perfect lips and tongue planting a wet kiss on the hunter’s neck.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Paul said. 

“You gotta eat,” Daryl shrugged. He flipped the pancake and turned in those arms to face Paul. His glorious man still had some eyeliner on, now smudged and smoky. It was hot. Daryl brought his hands up and cupped Paul’s face, kissing him tenderly before responding. “If you don’t, how are you gonna have the strength to get through what I got planned?” Daryl sucked on his hot actor’s bottom lip, tenderly inviting Paul’s tongue into his mouth. Paul grabbed the back of his handsome mechanic’s head and pressed their mouths together harder, their desire conflagrating. 

The next thing they knew, the pair were half naked and laughing on the floor. Smoke was billowing from the pan on the stove, and the kitchen smoke detector crying to high heaven. Daryl got the pan under control in the sink and Paul fanned the detector with a towel until it went silent. Then, they laughed at each other on and off as they split a late pancake dinner and practically tore the remaining clothes off of one another to get outside and into the hot tub where Daryl rubbed Paul’s back and ass. They talked about Paul’s amazing day on set and his new co-stars, Daryl and Rick’s recon mission near the field, and them bringing Coach Negan and Ms Lucille to Labor Day with them. Just after midnight, they got out, shut down and covered the hot tub, took a quick shower together, and then fell into the bed, their naked bodies entwined. 

At just after four in the morning, Daryl woke to the touch of a strong, smooth hand, thumb slowly stroking his left nipple. From there, the hand and arm began to ease downward, fingers and palm rubbing between his pecs, along his stomach and abs, stopping to visit his navel and circle it lightly. He felt Paul’s face, nose, and lips nuzzle against the back of his neck and shoulders. The warmth breath, light kisses, and tickling beard were welcome, drawing a tingle that ran up his spine. His beautiful actor’s hand boldly moved lower, following the light trail of hair in a line from Daryl’s navel to his rapidly hardening cock. The breathy moans coming from behind him were an instant wake-up call. Fingers rubbed and explored gently in the trimmed hair just above his manhood, making themselves at home and bringing the large phallus to full pose, foreskin sliding back to expose the glans. The fingers moved further down, and Paul took hold of the base of Daryl’s thick, heavy cock, his long fingers simultaneously stretching down and caressing the smooth, warm skin of his boyfriend’s ball sac. 

“Mmm, Daryl,” Paul intoned quietly. Daryl smiled, knowing his man was horny as fuck. “Can I keep going?”

“Fuck yeah!” Daryl exhaled back, his breath coming harder. "I fucking love it! I love having you against me, your hands on me, always."

Daryl could feel Paul’s long, thick, cock already arcing up and sliding up along the cleft of his ass. He reached back over his shoulder and turned to find Paul’s hungry mouth. Daryl’s lips parted to let his man’s tongue enter. The kiss was intense but not rough in the way they had sported the night before. 

Paul eased away, grabbed the lube from the nightstand, and lowered himself down, kissing a line down Daryl’s back to his entrance. Once there, he began to slowly, methodically, lovingly tongue Daryl open. Paul’s tongue was the stuff of legend. He spread Daryl’s glutes apart, massaging them lovingly as his tongue worked the hot little rosebud. Daryl felt himself becoming pliant, and incredibly horny. The hunter arched his back and pushed his ass up, offering it in sacrifice to the man who revered it so.

“Paul! You gotta be inside me. I’m—I’m ready. Please!” Daryl was so on the edge with Paul’s tongue he was afraid he might come too soon and disappoint his man. 

Paul shifted back up and spooned Daryl again. Daryl heard the lube bottle open and close, followed by the slick sounds of Paul working it on his exceptional member. Now, he felt the head of Paul’s manhood rubbing at his entrance. Daryl reached back eagerly to line his lover up as Paul pushed in slow and steady. Daryl exhaled loudly; Paul kissed the back of his neck, then bit down and sucked hard; Daryl felt him reach around to take hold of his rock-hard cock, stroking it slowly while the gorgeous hunter acclimated to his lover’s size. 

After a minute, Daryl spoke. “Paul,” he whispered. “I love you so fucking much! Fuck me! Please, fuck me!” His voice was breathy and strained with need. 

“I love you, Daryl!” Paul whispered in his lover’s ear. “I’d be so fucking lost without you! I’m so fucking lucky!”

Paul fucked him tenderly, slowly, both of them rocking each other through the tantalizing act. Finally Paul couldn’t take it any longer and began to increase his pace. 

“I’m all yours!” Daryl cried. “Don’t hold back!” 

Paul pulled out, shifted up onto his knees with Daryl’s shoulders pressed into a couple of pillows, lying up on his elbows, and his legs locked around his beautiful man’s waist. Neither had closed the balcony curtain, and the light from the moonlit night beyond gave a soft blue tint to the room. Paul could see Daryl looking into his shining, mist-blue eyes. He moved his hips forward with a grunt and slid his huge cock back into the sheath of Daryl’s warmth. His beautiful hunter moaning obscenely when he was balls-deep. 

Paul had adjusted his entry so that he would now run his cock thrusts gently along Daryl’s prostate. Daryl began to come undone beneath him. His breath was faster; his face, neck, and shoulders were flushed. Daryl’s big cock stuck straight out, proud, hard, and pulsing. The magnificent rod bounced between them, leaking a heavy stream of pre-come in a rivulet down the shaft while tiny, wet strings were slinging off onto his and Paul’s stomachs.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Daryl!” cried Paul. “I love you! God, I love you! I’m gonna come so deep inside for you!”

“Oh, fuck! Paul!” he said out of nowhere; his hands were gripping the sheets for dear life. Daryl’s breathing changed, and he began to grunt and clamp down on his gorgeous man’s fantastic cock as he cried out. “Ahh! Ahh! AHH! AHH!! AHH!!! AHHH!!!”

Paul watched in amazement at the fact that Daryl was coming without being manually stimulated, and his man’s huge erection was blasting shot after shot all the way up to hit Paul’s chest and neck. Paul’s resulting climax sheared through him. He slowed his intense thrusts into Daryl’s warmth and painting him inside completely. He bent down to kiss Daryl deeply.

“ ** _I love you so much_** ,” they whispered together into the kiss, their words in perfect unison. Any other time, with any other person, they each might have thought this phenomenon weird, but here and now, it was blissfully perfect. The roller coaster was rounding the top of the camelback, letting them catch air and defy gravity. 

They laughed together, and Paul eased himself out, begging Daryl to stay still and assuring his god-of-a-man that he’d be right back. Paul slipped away quietly to the bathroom, ran water in the sink, and returned quickly with a couple of hand towels and a soapy washcloth. Tenderly, he cleaned Daryl and himself. When he’d dropped the towels in the clothing bin, he returned and snuggled up to Daryl, pulling the sheet and covers back over them. He was surprised to find his big man was crying.

Paul turned the beautiful hunter over to face him and pulled Daryl into his arms. “Oh my god! Daryl? Did I—Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice was clear.

Daryl huffed a laugh and sniffed. “Naw, man,” he said through his tears and kissed Paul’s right pec. “That was fucking awesome! I didn’t know a guy could come without touching—I mean—just by being fucked!” He looked up at Paul. 

Paul shrugged. “It’s more common for some guys than others, but I’m glad you got the chance to experience it. I never have.” He kissed the top of Daryl’s head and stroked his neck and back, his tender, loving touches were a soothing polish to the marks of courage.

Daryl kissed Paul’s chest. “We’ll work on that. I wanna make you come that way.” 

Paul made a delighted sound and kissed his man, then said. “I hear it helps to be really attracted to the guy who’s fucking you, and for him to stimulate the prostate just right. So we’ve got both going for us.”

“Makes sense to me,” Daryl said. His “post-fuck sleepies” were kicking in as he yawned. He knew Paul had to be at set by 6:30, so he pressed the young man back down and kept him there by falling asleep on his chest.

Daryl found the bedroom alarm clock to be his least favorite thing in Paul’s house. When it had gone off, it meant that he and Paul had to get ready and part company. On their way out, he noticed Paul’s car was a Mazda MX-5 convertible. It was storm blue; his man was in the driver’s seat with his long hair, beard, baseball cap, and amber mirror shades on, looking like a good ‘ole boy from King County.

Daryl had promised his man that he and Merle would give the bike a thorough check-up. Paul informed him of his complete jealousy and asked if he planned to stay at his own place since he was going to have long days through Thursday, then another all day shoot on Sunday where he was going to get to shoot people. Meanwhile, Daryl had to work all day on Saturday. Daryl also thought that he probably should go home for a bit. He needed catch up around the place, having been gone for a while. He told Paul he’d be down for video call time, and Paul agreed vehemently. With that, Daryl, cranked the bike and drove it to the gym and then on to work. Just after lunch, he and Merle took it out, put it through its paces so to speak, and gave the bike some due attention. That evening, Daryl took it with him as he did a little shopping. Overall, it had been well-loved.

By Friday, Daryl was fit to be tied. They’d had a couple of steamy video calls, and on Thursday night, Paul had answered the “booty call” at 12:14 AM, rushed to his man’s house, and let Daryl fuck him senseless right there in the garage on his _Triumph_ motorcycle—although Paul insisted that the real “triumph” was actually a mutual victory; Daryl couldn’t agree more. 

The reality was, as much as they loved the fucking, they also needed the intimacy. It was that first, intimate connection in a theme park that had brought them together, and now, both were craving it like heroin addicts. Waking up next to Paul made Daryl’s day worth getting up at 5:00 AM. Sharing an evening meal made them both happy beyond words. Paul told Daryl point blank that he made him feel secure and wanted. 

On Friday, Paul was called in early for more promo shots. Daryl had thought about taking a day off to be with him but was glad he hadn’t after all; they’d had a great deal of work to get through at the shop. Around 3:00 in the afternoon, Merle’s voice came across the loud speaker.

**_“Daryl Dixon to the front desk, please! Daryl Dixon to the front desk!”_ **

Daryl was in the storeroom stocking motor oil with Patrick at the moment, and he stuck his head out to determine exactly why Merle had used the PA system instead of just coming to get him. He walked forward, suddenly noticing that everyone was hovering in the front office and leaving Patrick to jabber on while he finished restocking the synthetics.

Paul was stood there checking his phone in the front office area, wearing those tight, black jeans that showed off his flawless ass, a dark olive t-shirt, and his worn, gray Chelsea boots with the sides turned down. His hair was perfect, long and straight with an inner glow like polished wood. He slid his phone into his back pocket and looked up to meet Daryl’s eyes with those brilliant, bright eyes that were always so full of kindness. 

T-Dog, Axel, and Martinez all stepped back from doorway, giving Daryl a clear path to come into the office. Patrick had finally realized his boss has left him alone and followed him out front to check out the commotion.

“Yo’!” T-Dog said, catching Daryl’s attention. “ _That’s_ bae?” He was clearly indicating Paul.

Daryl tried to fight it. He almost had his stare until Merle’s voice came blaring out through the PA system once again. 

**_“Daryl Dixon to the front desk, ple—!”_ **

“Damn it, Merle! I’m here!” Daryl yelled. Morales just burst out laughing over at the coffee urn. He had to set his cup down so as not to scald himself with the hot liquid. Nabila’s whole form was shaking as she was pointedly trying not to look in Daryl’s direction. Paul had turned back to see his poor boyfriend being hounded by his evidently curious employees. He smiled ruefully at Daryl, then huffed a laugh at Merle who had managed to look completely serious throughout the entire exchange.

Daryl looked to T-Dog and company. His crooked, shy smile won out. “Yeah. Everybody, this is Paul,” he said, introducing his magnificent lover to the crowd. “Paul is my boyfriend. Paul, this is our crew: Nabila, Morales, Martinez, Axel, T-Dog, Patrick, and you know Merle.”

“Hello, everyone!” Paul said, waving and shaking hands all around. “It’s really nice to meet to you all. Daryl and Merle have said great things.”

“Oh, _shit_!” Martinez said quietly, looking wide-eyed at Daryl.

“What you think I can’t get a boyfriend, Martinez?” Daryl was actually a little offended. 

T-Dog snickered and clarified. “Naw, bruh. We just know this fine-ass muthafucka got you wrapped right here!” He held up his pinky finger to Daryl.

Daryl felt Paul’s hand slide around his waist as he leaned around Daryl to look at the jeering group and retort, “You should see what he has _me_ wrapped around,” his sly smile punctuating his words.

 _That_ broke up church! Cat-calls and wolf-whistles blared through the store. Nabila was on the floor, head scarf in partial disarray. T-Dog and company howled with delight seeing Daryl turn six shades of red. Morales and Merle gave each other a fist-bump. 

“I think somebody owes money to the cuss jar,” said Patrick as Daryl held up a hand to start to get the staff back under control. 

“I think some folks need to get back to work before I start handing out pink slips,” Daryl warned. “Merle, touch that goddamn PA again and see what happens.”

Merle smirked, mimicked his little brother silently under his breath like a ten year-old and much to Morales’ and Nabila’s continued amusement, and put the phone receiver back on the cradle before he spoke into it again. Then, he walked over, hugged Paul deliberately, and went back into the store, flipping Daryl off playfully as he left. Shelly Neudermeyer—the only customer in the lobby—sat watching the entire scene play out while pretending to read the shop copy of last week’s _Entertainment Weekly_ ; it was currently upside down in her hands.

The rest of the crowd went back to their tasks as Daryl sauntered up to his boyfriend. He could smell the awesome cologne Paul had worn the night of their marathon first date. “I adjusted the seat and changed the oil. Merle made sure the timing was right and the intakes were clear. Rides like a champ.” Daryl turned his cap around, leaned in, and kissed his beautiful actor. 

“Mmm,” Paul groaned. “That’s so sweet! How can I ever repay you?”

Daryl chortled low and suggestively. “I’m sure we can work it out in trade,” Daryl replied as he licked his lips. Mrs. Neudermeyer was about to come unhinged. 

“Care to let me take you home early, boss man?” Paul had stepped in closer, playing with one of the buttons on Daryl’s shirt.

“Siddiq fill the pantry?” Daryl laughed. “Or are we eating out?”

“Oh, you can best believe I will definitely be eating _something_ out,” Paul said in a sultry voice. Mrs. Neudermeyer’s wallet slipped from her lap to hit the floor with a smack. The hot owner and his beautiful paramour paid the nosy woman no mind whatsoever. “As for Siddiq, he and I will take care of groceries tomorrow morning while you’re here at work. Then, I’m off to _Safe Zone _for my spa day with Jared. He sent a reminder, and he and Eric say ‘Hello.’” He leaned in, “But tonight, I’m cooking for you, at your place. I brought a bag… If that’s okay?” Paul’s sly grin and bedroom eyes made Daryl’s heart start to race.__

The handsome hunter chortled a laugh, reached back underneath the front desk, pulled out a small white box with a blue ribbon bow in top—the results of his shopping trip the day before. The mechanic smiled wide, teeth showing the extent of his happiness as he handed it to Paul. 

“What’s this?” Paul asked, returning his man’s smile with his own. Daryl just jutted his chin, encouraging his man to open it up. When he removed the lid, Paul’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he found a _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_ keychain with a house key, a Ford truck key, and a _Triumph Motorcycles_ key. There was also, a brand new toothbrush.


	6. Inline Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul enjoy dinner with friends. Daryl meets the cast and crew of DA and is let in on a secret that tests his resolve, tempers their relationship, and ends up bringing himself and Paul to a new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next installment. I really hope you enjoy it. Thanks as always for the comments and kudos! This fandom truly has some of the sweetest people who are so supportive. Much love, and happy reading! 
> 
> <3 XOXO

“Hey, guys! Come on in!” called the handsome man with the curly, dark blonde hair and two days of perfect stubble. He opened the door wide and stepped back, beckoning Daryl and Paul to enter the charming two-story home on Alexandria Drive. 

“Hey, man,” Daryl said as he stepped up and ushered Paul in ahead of him and came to stand just behind him in the foyer, his hand finding the perfect spot to rest comfortingly at the small of his boyfriend’s back. “Aaron, this is my boyfriend, Paul. Paul, this is Aaron.”

“Hey! Thanks for having us over!” Paul said, smiling brightly.

“Oh, I _know_ who this guy is,” Aaron mused. Paul stepped forward and hugged Eric’s husband. “And now I can die happy!” 

“Excuse me, sir, but have you been following me around all day just to get to my husband?” Eric joked to Paul. He’d made his way from the kitchen to greet their guests. He was still wearing an apron that had a distinct ‘50s print on it and read: “Your opinion wasn’t in the recipe, dear!”

“Oops! Busted!” Paul said, playing along as the two hugged. When Aaron looked surprised Paul explained, “I’ve been at the spa today. It was amazing, and I feel fantastic!”

“We didn’t have to do much,” Eric praised. “He’s so damn gorgeous already!”

“Aww, c’mon,” Paul said modestly. 

“Totally true!” Eric defended. Paul looked sheepish and glanced at Daryl who just nodded back, apparently confirming the exact same sentiment he’d expressed to his perfect partner the moment he walked in the door.

“Y’all c’mon in here and check out the bar set up!” said Eric, sweeping Paul further into the house and showing off some of the improvements Daryl and Merle had helped the couple complete in the past few years as they upgraded their home. 

Daryl hugged Aaron and handed him a large bottle of red wine. Aaron just looked at him with wide eyes as he motioned with his head toward Paul. “So this is the man who did it.”

“Did what?” Daryl scoffed, trying to play it cool by looking down at the wine bottle in Aaron’s hands.

“Daryl Dixon, don’t you dare walk all up in my house and tread that horseshit on my floors!” Aaron countered. 

Daryl looked up to meet his friend’s eyes. “Don’t know what you mean, man,” the redneck sneered, but his face once again betrayed him with an unstoppable smile.

“Oh, but you _do_!” Aaron confirmed in his best Vice Principal manner. 

Daryl just snickered and shook his head, his grin still indelible. “You’re gonna be as bad as Merle and Rick, man.”

“Seriously,” Aaron said, his smile warm and caring. “Eric said he’s never seen you so happy, and seeing that look on your face right now and the one I saw him give you right before you two kissed on our front porch? That was—“

“You were watching us through the window?” Daryl asked, huffing a laugh.

“Pshh! Bitch, please!” Aaron jested, “I saw it all on my tablet when the security system alerted me to your arrival. You guys were on three different Hi-Def cameras from the moment you pulled into the driveway. To quote Jared, ‘I saw _erry-thang_ , boo!’”

Daryl snorted a laugh with his friend and peeked over at the pair in the kitchen. Paul was well into making some kind of cocktails as he was filling the shaker with ice; he and Eric were chattering away, total bosom buddies. The mechanic looked back over at his friend. “Man, it’s like I told Rick—hell, it’s like I told _Paul_ : I ain’t _never_ felt this way about anybody. _Ever_. Y’all know me. I don’t just jump in bed with somebody, much less end up getting _dick-ma-tized_.”

“Which is a good thing.” Aaron had to agree there. He put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and said quietly, solemnly, “We just want you to know that we love you, and we are so happy that you’ve found someone, someone you love, someone who is worthy of that love and returns it. 

“He does,” Daryl assured. “Merle and Carol love him to death, and the guys at the shop met him. Nabila told me I done been caught.” He looked at Aaron very seriously. “She’s damn right, too.”

“I take it you two have consummated this relationship?” Aaron asked, trying to be tactful. 

Unexpectedly, Daryl raised his eyebrows and nodded his head enthusiastically. “ _Hell_ , yeah! Man, we are fucking each other’s _brains_ out! Can’t neither one of us get enough of it! Fucking horny all the damn time, poppin’ hard-ons like teenagers,” Daryl exhaled. “Man, if I talk about how good that part of us is, Aaron, I’ll will literally cry and ball like a damn baby right here on this floor I helped put in, talking about how lucky I am. It’s goddamn fucking balls-out the best sex I will ever know. I am officially wrecked and _ruined_.”

“I know just what you mean,” Aaron said, smiling softly and looking over at his husband while Eric checked the oven. 

Daryl followed his gaze, looked back, and asked in a serious whisper. “Man, did you know you can come without jacking yourself? Like, just by getting fucked?”

Aaron bit his lips as his eyebrows reached for the ceiling. He instantly realized that Daryl wasn’t joking nor was he trying to brag or kiss-and-tell. Daryl realized he must have said too much and started to add something, but Aaron assured, “Daryl, that’s a really beautiful thing. Enjoy each other. God knows you’ve waited so long for the right one. Now, let’s go here and find out what your hot, young, handsome, talented boyfriend’s got shaking in that shaker, shall we?”

“Why’s everybody keep bringing up _young_?” Daryl huffed a laugh, started to follow, but then stopped to hug his friend again, saying, “Thanks, man. I mean it. You guys never stopped believing.”

“Easy to do when you’re pulling for the home team hero,” Aaron said. 

They chuckled together and separated, wiped their eyes, and strode into the kitchen. The place was bright, open, and cheerful with light gray walls that brought out the art and photos. Several included Daryl in black and white. The kitchen had all white modern cabinets. Eric beckoned everyone in and over to the kitchen island where several bottles of wine, various liquors and spirits, a martini set, tumblers, and highball glasses sat ready and waiting. It was an impressive bar set up, and Paul was making himself right at home while Eric was talking and checking on the butter, garlic, and herbs steeping together in a small pot on the stove. On two trays on the counter, coming to temperature, were several links of sweet and spicy fennel sausage and three dozen meatballs of veal, pork, beef, herbs, and parmesan, all according to Eric. Aaron passed Daryl a black apron with the direwolf emblem of House Stark from _Game of Thrones_ ; it read: “Dinner is Coming!” He put on one for himself that had the iconic gun barrel silhouette of James Bond 007 that said: “Licenced to Grill!”

“I would never have believed that tile and hardwood floors could be put in so easily,” Eric explained to Paul. “But Daryl and Merle can do _anything_.”

“They look awesome!” said Paul. He looked to his side and Daryl tied on his apron and sidled up to him. Paul leaned his head back, stretching out his long, beautiful neck and making his voice seductive and low. “You did such a good job.” Daryl leaned in and kissed him tenderly once, twice, three times, four. 

“We may just be able to put the meat on sticks and hold it up next to them,” Aaron whispered.

“Sorry, y’all” Daryl said when they broke the kiss with a laugh. 

“Oh, please! Do _not_ be shy when it comes to expressing your affection here,” quipped Eric. “The _Safe Zone_ starts right here on Alexandria Drive.”

Paul’s look to Daryl indicated he wasn’t sorry in the least. He kissed Daryl once more for good measure, licked his lips to savor the taste of Daryl’s lip balm, and turned back to pour the contents of the shaker into four tall glasses filled with ice, placing an orange slice on each as garnish. 

“Sunset Sunrise,” Paul explained. “It’s my twist on a tequila sunrise from when I worked at a leather bar on Santa Monica Boulevard back in LA when I was just starting out.”

“A leather bar?” Eric asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Paul nodded. “I bartended quite a few places, gay, straight, and somewhere in between. I waited tables, worked for an overnight cleaning service, did some landscaping, and I managed a greenhouse and flower shop. Lots of part-time jobs to make ends meet.” He raised his glass. “I hope you like these. It’s been a little while since I’ve made them. Cheers!”

They raised and clinked their glasses. Paul waited for the reactions. 

“Say! That’s great!” said Aaron. “Can you leave us that recipe?”

“Certainly, sir,” Paul nodded. “It’s even better if you have blood orange juice. You like?”

Daryl tried the drink and felt its pleasant kick. Then, he drew Paul in and kissed his temple, whispering, “That’s killer, baby.”

“Jared texted,” said Eric, looking at his phone and turning the burner on to full under the pasta water. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes. I asked him to drop by the store on the way. You want to go ahead and throw the meat and vegetables on the grill, love? That way it can rest long enough for the pasta and bread to get done.”

“Yes!” nodded Aaron, kissing his husband as he went by and handing the tray of sausages to Daryl. “Grill’s ready to go, hot stuff!” Daryl huffed a laugh and took the tray, looking at the sausages, biting his bottom lip, and nodding with a suggestive leer at his boyfriend. Paul arched an eyebrow, gave Daryl the bedroom eyes and a sultry smirk, and smacked his boyfriend’s ass as he followed him and Aaron out back to the grill. 

The house had a long, elevated back deck made of composite plank. Paul learned that Daryl and Merle had been instrumental in that addition as well. Part of it had a trellis cover of open rafter rails and honeysuckle growing up the side facing the afternoon sun. Beneath it was a table for six which was set with a long, rectangular, trough-like centerpiece from which were growing basil, oregano, thyme, chives, sage, and parsley. Floating candles in cylindrical glass water vases were place around the table. A big charcoal grill was off to one side with heat shimmers radiating up from its hood and white smoke coming from its vents. 

By the time, everything was well underway, Paul looked up to see Alden and Jared emerge from the kitchen door, grocery bags, two more bottles of wine, and a baguette in hand.

“Hey, y’all!” Al called. “We finally made it!”

“Okay,” said Jared, “we would have been here sooner, but what _had happened_ was…” All heads turned to hear Jared’s tale. “I left the shop after I got done combing Paul’s hair. My god, I don’t know anybody with hair so perfect that all you’ve gotta do is comb it. Do you have any _idea_ what I have to go through to look this good in the morning? All this boy needed was a shampoo, condition, and cut, but it gave us time to talk about you, Daryl. Any-hoo, back to the K-Roger.” Jared winked at Daryl as he pierced the point of the corkscrew into the cork and started turning in time with his story. “Okay. So, we got our wine, picked up some balsamic for Eric, and went up to the registers. Now, we are trying to get through the express lane, mind you, but there are seventy-seven _thousand_ people in line, one of whom cannot count because she had forty-three different items in her two handbaskets, but I digress. So we scoot over to the self-service line which is finally starting to move. Me being me, I notice that there’re these two women at the checkout kiosks. One has a guy with her who I presume to be her man.” He stopped for a second to pull out the cork with a pop and proceeded to open the second bottle. 

“Already?” Aaron laughed.

“Well, what the hell are we going to drink while we wait on the other one to breathe, you heathen?” Jared quipped, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in mock exasperation.

“I can’t with you!” snickered Eric, who’d stepped out to hear the tale. “Where’s mine?” 

Jared shot side-eye. “ _Really_? Ain’t you s’posed to be payin’ attention to my story? This is late-breaking news here.”

Everyone cracked up as Al handed the first glass to Eric. 

“Thank you, hon!”

“So, yeah—there’s a guy with the short, red-headed girl at one kiosk,” explains Jared. “Right across from them is tall girl with her long legs, brunette hair like almost to her butt, and a pair of short-shorts so high and tight that I know they must be about to cut her damn vajois in half. I’m over here poking Al to get him to quit reading the nutrition label on the Midnite Milky Way bars and pay attention because these two keep eyeing each other with the Gorgon-Death-Ray looks. Meanwhile, dude is trying to be real still, like, “if I move, they’ll see me and have to chase me down!” kinda thing. Oh, it gets better, it gets better, this is the good part, y’all! So, we are poised and ready to get to Miss Thang’s check-out kiosk, when out of _no-fucking-where_ , these two go after it!”

“They started screaming, throwing punches, slinging bags full of cans of butterbeans, talking about “Bitch! That is _MY MAN_! He is MINE YOU EVIL WHORE!’” added Al, demonstrating the head shaking. 

“Oh! My! God!” said Jared. “It was so wrong, y’all. Shorty Red started slinging her _purse_! Celery is flying through mid-air! Comet cleanser exploded _every-damn-where_! Tall Ho’ goes upside Shorty Red’s head with an entire _carton_ of eggs! If she had hit my baby…” he pointed to Alden and they clinked glasses, “I would be calling all y’all to get Miss Andrea or Judge Eastman or Rick or _some-damn-body_ , ‘cause I would be in jail. But, at the time, all I could think was that I should really do something. So, y’all know what I did?”

Daryl and Paul started laughing as Daryl replied, “Bitch, I know _exactly_ what your evil ass did. Now show us the fucking video!”

“YASSS!!!” Jared crowed, taking out his smartphone and pulling up the video as every gathered round. “That shit was on Instagram, Tumblr, and YouTube before I got out of the parking lot! The best part is when Shorty Red grabs Tall Ho’ by the hair, scratches at her, and my girl gets back up, knocks Shorty Red flat on her ass and yells, ‘Bitch, that’s what he was doing to me last night!’ Well, then Shorty Red starts laying into _him_. Baby, by this time, that pitiful Michael Kors knock-off purse ain’t got but one end of one strap left. Covergirl cosmetics, Hall’s coughdrops, and Dollar General tampons are flying out like candy from a white trash piñata! It was a _spectacle_ right in the middle of downtown Palmetto.”

They all watched the video together twice, only laughing harder at the schadenfreude of it all. Jared sighed and swept his beautiful hair back as if he’d just run a marathon. ”I am _traumatized_ , y’all. I may need liquor.”

“See Paul,” Aaron informed through his raucous laughter. Eric, Daryl, and Paul were trying to catch their breath and wipe the tears from their eyes.

“I can handle that,” Paul said, collecting himself and heading back to the bar set up in the kitchen. “I think there’s a buzzer going off. 

“Oh, let me get my balls out!” said Eric, running inside.

“Again?” Jared quipped. “I didn’t know it was that kinda party—button your damn shirt back up, Al!”

The evening was perfect with a combination of hilarity and one of the best meals Aaron and Eric had ever hosted. Eric’s two-day marinara was fit for kings. The men laughed and teased each other. They talked with Paul about his role, and they asked a lot of really good questions to which he graciously answered what he could. They watched the videos he’d sent to Daryl and absolutely fawned over the pair. They were tears of joy, and all of them had private moments here and there to express how happy they were for Daryl and Paul. Daryl told them they were all as sappy as Rick and Merle. They thought that was pretty good company. 

After helping their hosts clean up and put away, they made their goodbyes and left. Daryl took Paul to his house. They walked out behind the house and lay together in the big hammock swing out back, kissing and looking up at the stars. Daryl let himself be undressed right there in his own, private back yard with the fireflies blinking here and there. They came together in an intense 69 session, swallowing each other’s come, then lay cuddled together, naked and sated beneath the canopy of the trees and Daryl’s favorite stars. Paul woke him a little after midnight, and they went inside and fell into Daryl’s comfy bed, completely exhausted.

The next morning, they rose early, worked out, and ran for an hour before returning, showering up and getting dressed. They drove to Senoia on their bikes and turned on Sylvan, just past the railroad tracks. The main set security trailer was off to the right and the pair parked outside. In fifteen minutes, Daryl had signed a non-disclosure agreement—specifying a one million dollar damage clause—of his own and wore a security pass on a lanyard around his neck as they entered the set. Paul’s badge read: “Cast” where his said: “Guest.” A helpful young production assistant drove up in a golf cart and spirited them away, coming to a stop outside a set of little, creamy-white trailers. As they got out and waved to the PA, Daryl looked over to see someone smoking outside. 

“Hey,” Daryl said, nudging Paul. “Is that Connor?”

“Oh, yeah,” Paul replied. “You need your nicotine fix? C’mon.”

They stepped around the side of the trailer near the back where three collapsible camp chairs were set up. Sitting in one, scrolling through images on his phone, was none other than Connor Reedus. The man had a large coffee in the cup holder of the little chair. He looked up and saw the pair approach. 

“Hey, Paul,” he said, smiling and standing up. “What’s up?”

“Connor, I wanna to introduce you to my boyfriend. This is Daryl Dixon. Daryl, Connor Reedus.”

“Oh my god! Hey! Welcome to set, man,” said Connor, standing. “Paul’s told us so much about you. It’s nice to meet you man.”

“Nice to meet you too, man,” said Daryl, shaking the artist’s hand. “Can I join you?” He pulled out a pack of Morley’s 

“Hell yeah, man! Burn it,” nodded Connor. 

They smoked together, told Connor about their bikes, and listened to his proposal to ride together through the area and North Georgia while shooting an unscripted television show. Daryl informed that he knew all the best roads to ride. 

“So you think you might be up for it? I mean, as long as it would work for your schedule?” We shoot over three days,” Connor explained.

Paul raised his eyebrows questioningly at Daryl. Clearly he was in.

“All right,” Daryl agreed. “I ride with y’all.”

“Not camera shy, are you?” Connor asked. “I promise they won’t be like super-invasive, all up on you.”

Daryl smiled and shook Connor’s hand again. “Sounds good man.”

“Guys, some folks are coming by the restaurant this evening around 6:00 or whenever. It’s _Craig & Connor’s_ down on Main. You guys should come by,” said Connor. “A bunch of us are gonna be there, including my son and my girlfriend. They’re here this weekend and heading back to New York late tonight, and I know they would totally want to meet you guys. Murphy loved our video and was all like, ‘Dad, are you freakin’ kidding me? You really are working with Jesus?’ We all absolutely _loved_ your work in _Heisenberg Theory_ , man.” He turned to Daryl. “This guy is incredible!”

Daryl looked at Paul, then back at Connor and nodded in agreement. “Yep, he is.”

“Aww, thanks, man. I think we can make that happen,” Paul said. “I’m gonna show Daryl around before we get started. Are you getting shot today?”

“Yeah, man,” Connor laughed. “Get this. I keep begging just to let him graze me in the arm or something because I don’t want the costume department to put a hole in my biker jacket. I’m way too attached to that thing. Maybe they’ll make me a new one with a cool bullet hole through and through.”

Daryl wasn’t sure what scene they were describing but it sounded like fun. “Will they use those exploding blood things?” he asked Connor. 

“I hope so,” Connor answered. “I mean, I’m thinking like Wham! here. If you’re gonna do it, do it right, ya know?” 

“I feel ya,” Daryl said, looking at Paul. 

“Awesome!” Connor said. “Then we’ll catch you guys later!”

They parted from Connor and walked back around to the door of Paul’s trailer. It was a tiny room with a bathroom and that was about it. The place barely had room to turn around in but it was air conditioned and had a refrigerator, stove, sink, and a small table and chair set. The second room had a single bed, a couch, and a vanity set with chair and mirror that was actually lined with light bulbs. 

Paul had a few mail items that he was very happy to see. “Yay! Fan mail!” he cried, bouncing on his toes and clapping like a kid at an ice cream parlor. 

He carefully opened each one, read the aloud, and put them into two different in-boxes on the side table. He explained that those is this caddy would get a letter response and the other a small note; both would get a promo headshot with autograph. Paul explained that Siddiq would be by later to get everything together so he could respond. 

“You answer them all?” Daryl asked. 

“I try to,” Paul said. “I think it’s the least I can do. I mean, my work seems to make some people happy, at least for the most part. Sometimes I get crank mail, but I just send a card with Jesus blowing some dude away and roll with it. Overall though, it can mean a lot to people, and I want them to feel as special about it as they make me feel. Let them know how much I appreciate them.” 

Daryl reached over and took his beautiful actor’s wrist; Paul looked up into his hunter’s indigo eyes. “I think that’s awesome, you doing that for people you don’t even know.” Daryl said, his voice low and sincere. Just when he thought he couldn’t love his young man any deeper, Paul surprised him with another layer. 

Paul smiled back at him and replied in the same tone, “Just another service we provide.” He raised himself up on his toes and gave his strong man a sweet kiss, wrapping his arms around the colossal shoulders before him. Then, he added, “You know you and Connor drive the exact same bike, right?”

“I thought I liked him a lot,” Daryl said, grinning and sliding his huge guns down around Paul’s slender waist as he drew him in tighter and stole another kiss.

“That’s good, because you know,” Paul said, “when I signed on for this part, I was called into a closed-door meeting with the show-runner, head writer, and executive producers. It hasn’t been announced yet, but I _will_ be playing a gay character, just like in the comics. And they’ve already told me who my love interest is gonna be, so…” He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Can you guess who?”

Daryl blinked for a second, then his eyes lit up in realization. “Connor?”

“Well—I mean, not _Connor_ , but his character, Davy,” confirmed Paul. “And you get to know about it now that you too have signed your life away!” He smiled and started to kiss Daryl again when the big man pulled back. Paul leaned his head back and looked confused. “Hey, is something wrong?”

“Naw,” Daryl said, his lips in a straight line, eyes, not meeting Paul’s beautiful orbs. There was a silent moment, waiting for the sword to fall.

“Daryl Dixon, love of my life,” Paul said, bringing up the man’s chin to make him look at him. “Are you _jealous_?”

Daryl just looked away, his face and neck reddening, ashamed, angry. “Maybe,” said the redneck, his voice quiet and a little mad. He turned and started to stomp out. He wanted away from here. He didn’t want Rick to be right. He didn’t want to blow up about shit that wasn’t Paul’s fault; it was his job, after all. He didn’t want to let the man he loved make him angry by being so fucking nonchalant about it either. 

Paul caught him and beckoned, “Whoa! Daryl, Daryl—please, PLEASE!” Daryl stopped and looked back. “I know you said you can get angry, and I’m happy and grateful that you’ve put so much hard work into it. Believe me: I don’t wanna ruin that, and I am _not_ discounting your feelings, baby. I’m so fucking sorry; I should have brought this up another way. I figured you might want to actually meet Connor first so that you’d have all the details. I didn’t tell you all this to hurt you. Just—could you please stay? While you deal with anger, I deal with abandonment.”

Daryl exhaled through his nose and shook his head, his thunder transmuting to embarrassment. “Ain’t going nowhere. Just wasn’t expecting to feel like this about it.”

“We’re both professionals, and it’s pretty hard on Connor too,” Paul said. “He’s played a couple of gay roles, but this one would be on-going for a while—at least until one or both of us get killed off—and he’s straight.” Paul stepped up in front of his strapping lover. “And he’s handsome and hot, but he ain’t got _nothing_ on you.”

“Pfft!” Daryl scoffed quietly, but he was looking back into Paul’s icy blue eyes. He licked his lips, and swallowed when he saw Paul’s expression change to a leer.

“Look at me! I! _Mean_! It! Nobody has ever been jealous of my affection. _Ever_ ,” Paul intoned. He sucked again until Daryl thought he’d break skin. When he came up, Paul grabbed Daryl’s shirt, making his handsome boyfriend look deep into his eyes. “Let me show you that you have no need to worry.” 

Paul exhaled, hot and heavy, walking his big man back to a stop against the kitchenette counter. Daryl caught the lust-filled look on his man’s face. Paul grabbed his mechanic’s hair and pulled his head back so he could get to Daryl’s throat and attack it with hot, wet kisses, latching on to leave a clear mark down along his neck, just below Daryl’s right ear. His hot actor’s voice came as a throaty, muffled, sex-laden issue against Daryl’s flesh, sending a shockwave straight to his cock. 

“God! You are too _gorgeous_ for words,” Paul intoned, leaving another hot mark, punctuated with a love bite, right where the left side of Daryl’s throat met his collarbone. From there, he knelt down before his muscular god, unbuckling Daryl’s belt with practiced ease. 

When Paul began to mouth and lick his cock through his black boxer briefs, Daryl’s worries of Connor Reedus stealing his only chance at love were annihilated. Out of nowhere, Paul turned him around, spread Daryl’s ass and began to worship his entrance. When Daryl got too noisy, Paul turned him back around and engulfed his strapping mechanic’s pulsing cock, sinking to the base and holding himself there until Daryl started to wonder if his love might pass out; after all, Daryl thought he might do so himself. He ran the fingers of both hands through his beautiful man’s lustrous hair, gripping it for dear life, holding on while Paul milked him with his mouth, tongue, and throat. His vision nearly went green when Paul stuck his middle finger into his hot spit-soaked hole and found his prostate, delicately teasing it. He pulled nearly off swirling his tongue over and under the glans, making Daryl’s thighs shudder, bringing heat to a boil in his groin, and drawing his balls up to unload explosively in Paul’s hot, divine mouth and throat.

He came in a torrent and Paul sunk on him to the base and bobbed there lovingly, taking every drop he had to give. When he’d ridden through it, Daryl fell to his knees and kissed Paul, tasting himself on his lover’s tongue and cupping Paul’s angelic face, never wanting to part nor quarrel ever again. 

“ ** _I’ll always be yours, Daryl/Paul._** ” The roller coaster slung into a powerful twist, two souls at its mercy. 

They kissed again. Then, they noticed Paul’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked it. 

“Shit! We gotta go over to make-up,” Paul said, lifting them up. “Like right now!” They did a quick clean up at the bathroom sink and Paul snatched on the costume that was hanging in his trailer closet. When Paul started out, Daryl spoke up, grabbing his hand. 

“Hey,” he said, letting go and bringing his thumbnail to his teeth. Paul, smiled and took his hand away, kissing the nail. 

“Miss Bertie will give you shit for that,” the pretty actor said.

Daryl huffed a laugh. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said, and stepped closer. “I’m really sorry for all that. I should have trusted in you and in Connor. Should trust in myself.”

“Please don’t feel bad,” Paul said, the comfort washing through his words to sooth Daryl’s soul and restore his peace of mind. “Now, let’s go before they send a search party, because they _will_.” They stepped out the door and down the steps to the pavement. Paul sent a reply text. 

“Can I smoke on the way?” Daryl asked, pulling out a Morley and tucking his shirt back in. 

“Yeah, I think we both need one,” Paul answered. Daryl handed over the cigarette he’d just lit. 

They walked to another set of temporary trailers and two semi-tractor trailers with generators and air conditioning units running wide-open on each. It was only 8:34 AM, and the temperature was already seventy-nine degrees. 

Paul put handed the rest of his smoke to Daryl and kissed him. “Hang here,” he instructed. Daryl watched as his man dashed up the steps into the back of the open semi-trailer. Paul brought two of the costumers and an intern over to introduce them and left with his character’s signature trench coat in hand. 

“Not putting this on until absolutely necessary,” he said, smirking He looked over at Daryl and caught his boyfriend’s eye as they stepped up to the make-up trailer. “You feel better now?”

Daryl nodded, reached over to put his hand behind his perfect boyfriend’s neck, drew him in, and issued a huff of exhilaration. “ _You_. You make me feel fucking _amazing_.” 

“Good,” Paul said. “Because this evening, after we get out of here, we’re gonna to go to the cast get-together at the bar—not so I can show you off, but so _you_ can show _me_ off because I am _all yours_. And we’re gonna have a couple of drinks, some dinner, and a blast with Andy and Connor and Craig and Laura and Marissa and everyone!” Paul’s voice because low and throaty as he put his arms around Daryl’s waist, looking into those perfect storm blue eyes and continuing. “And after _that_ , we are going to drive to my place, pick up some things, and then go over to your place, where _you_ are going to take me inside and _make me yours_ any and every way you _want_ , every way you _need_ , until _you_ are satisfied that I have no doubt to whom _I_ belong.” Daryl felt his cock twitch again. He knew Paul had focused solely on him, so his beautiful man was very horny and would remain so, maybe as a self-punishment for having pissed off his life’s light. Daryl would have to remedy that this evening. Tonight’s make-up sex couldn’t come fast enough.

_Ha! Ha!_

“Now puff up that fucking god-like chest and kiss me, big man,” Paul whispered, leaning up right there in the middle of the street—people passing them here and there—and let his brawny mechanic kiss him thoroughly.

“Oh! My! God!” said a stunning brunette with vibrant green eyes, her mouth hanging open in delightful mockery. She had burst through the make-up trailer door and was half hanging out of the doorway, a towel draped and fastened around her shoulders. “Get you horny ass in here, Paul!” She pointed to the Daryl. “That hottie right there—yeah, the one you’re down there swapping spit with, uh-huh, yeah—that better be Daryl, because if not, I’m telling,” she joked. “Hey, Daryl!” She smiled a set of perfect teeth. “I’m Laura.”

“Daryl, this is my co-star, Laura Cowan. She’s truly amazing and we are doing a lot of scenes together,” said Paul.

Daryl stepped over and shook her hand. “Yeah, I’m Daryl. Nice to meet ya, Laura.”

“You too,” Laura said. She had an accent Daryl couldn’t place.

Daryl put his smoke out in the sand bucket next to the door and followed Laura and Paul inside. The room was long and well-lit. Paul went to a station between Andy and Connor. While there, Daryl also met Elanna, Bennie, Candler, Dana, Cary, Marissa, and the twins who play Baby Meredith. Almost every cast member’s clothes looked nearly ready to fall apart, torn, dirty and stained with what looked like blood and oil. Connor and Andy got slathered in sunscreen and sun tan oil, to make it look like they were super sweaty, along with fake dirt and grime galore. Dana was getting a wig of intricate braids as she played a game on her phone. Marissa had to have a gunshot wound on her right arm and left leg. Andy was occasionally standing and gesturing while making “Cha- Cha-Cha-Cha-Cha-Cha” and “Doot-Doot-Doot-Doot-Doot-Doot” noises. No one else seemed to find this behavior strange except for Daryl, who was trying not to laugh at Connor as he was secretly recording Andy’s preparation routine.

“Oh, my god!” Andy said, turning to discover a new face in the trailer. He walked over as Connor got up from his chair and came to put an arm on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl huffed a laugh and clapped his hands when he read Connor’s baseball cap that read: “It’s not a cap! It’s a solar panel cover for a Sex Machine!”

Andy reached out a hand and said in his soft British accent, “I’m sorry. No one told us we had a new cast member.” When he saw Daryl’s surprised expression, he let up. “Just taking the piss out of you there, man. You must be Daryl, am I right?”

Daryl nodded and shook Andy’s hand.

Andy turned to Paul who now had smoky “guy-liner” again.

“Holy shit!” griped Connor. “Look at him! Who looks _that_ good in this show?”

“Hey!” snapped Dana. “Good black don’t crack over here!”

Connor looked abashed. “Sorry, Dana,” he said going over to kiss her cheek. “Sorry, sweetie, I meant us guys.”

“Hey!” groused Cary in joking outrage, but whom Connor had to kiss on the cheek as well in mock appeasement.

“You’re right though,” said Marissa. “Paul will look like the only one in the zombie apocalypse to have found hair care products.”

“Which reminds me,” Paul said. “Is it time, Andy?”

Andy glanced at the wall clock and nodded. “Yes! Let’s do this!”

Paul got up from his chair, thanked the artist, and headed out with Daryl, following Andy, Connor, Marissa, Dana, and Laura. Where the first make-up trailer had been a joy, full of people being made naturally attractive in a dirty style, the second make-up trailer was a travesty: living corpses paraded around in various states of decomposition. Some had open, oozing wounds, others, had horrific flaps of skin hanging down or obscene amounts of viscera and cruor slathered upon them. Connor admitted to Daryl that this job had made it hard for him to continue eating meat.

Regardless, these poor souls would eventually be sweltering in their layers of thick, gray body and stage make-up. Therefore, Andy—being the set’s primary ambassador of good will—had started a little exercise where, twice a day, the main cast would hand out water and soft drinks and even help feed the zombie extras, stunt people, second teams, regular extras, and especially those whose costumes impeded them significantly. When they had a moment, the cast were even gracious enough to take a few photos with the extras as a memento of their time on set.

Within an hour, they were carted down into the main season set for filming. The day was long and hot. Daryl found it quite like Merle’s description of military service, namely “hurry up and wait!” He got to meet Craig Nicoletti, an executive producer and director, and the “Craig” part of _Craig & Connor’s_—and watching Paul’s scene being filmed where he has a daring escape, defends the survivors from an assault and explains to everyone about that more communities existed. Apparently, he’d had to film a scene a few days before where Dana and Andy were nude, hopping out of bed to find him standing there. Daryl wondered how they were going to get that on cable, and he figured he really needed to ask Paul if he minded him watching the show. Glenn told him once that he was fortunate enough to love pizza so much that he could eat it every day, at every meal, but some of his employees never touched the stuff after working there so long. He didn’t want Paul to feel like the show was on all the time when they were together, so he resolved to make sure Paul would be okay with him catching up on it.

By the end of the day, the director was satisfied. After a brief stop by the trailer to refresh themselves and let Paul change and wipe away his make-up, they grabbed up their helmets to go grab their bikes and make their way to the restaurant a few blocks away. Connor waved them over. He and Andy were walking to Andy’s car. The temperature was easily over one hundred degrees in the vehicle, which has been parked in the sun in the cast lot next to the security trailer. Connor had his phone in hand and Andy had opened the door to let out some of the heat. Andy sat down in the seat and put the key in the ignition to start the car and turn on the air conditioning to full blast. Connor immediately started recording and to Daryl and Paul’s shock, a burst of glitter worthy of a thousand TinkerBell’s flew from the driver’s side vents of the car. Andy sat in shock as the jet blast of glitter just continued sticking to the man everywhere, including his exposed legs as he had changed into shorts.

“Oh, shit!” Paul exclaimed. “And so the prank wars have escalated!”

“You guys are pranking each other?” Daryl huffed a laugh.

“There two are going after it,” Paul explained and shook his head. “I might be too scared to get in on that.”

“I understand Andy put Fireball in Connor’s mouthwash after Connor put a chicken in Andy’s trailer,” Paul laughed.

They watched as poor Andy looked back at Connor’s phone camera. “It’s still going, dude.” Connor just kept gave a derisive laugh. “How much did you fucking put in here?”

“I put so much in there!” Connor confessed. “Have a nice ride home in the heat, bro!”

Andy, just looked crushed as he turned off the air and stated dejectedly, “I’m sweating.”

Connor’s amusement was unrelenting.

“You realize this means war,” Andy declared softly.

“Bring it, dude!” Connor challenged. “C’mon guys! Let’s go get a beer!”

With that, they all left and headed over to the bar. Daryl met nearly all of the main cast, many of whom had heard really nice things about him and his business, much to his pleasant surprise. Craig even told him that they were being gouged on fleet service, to which Daryl told him to let him know exactly what they needed, and he would submit a proposal. They met and took selfies with Murphy and Dianna, Connor’s son and girlfriend. A couple of drinks and a killer burger later, jokes and stories were being shared around the table, and Daryl found himself drawn into the conversation like he’d known these people all his life. Around 9:30, the group started to break up. Connor hugged Andy goodbye and squeezed the man’s buttocks to the amusement of the table behind him. Andy tried to dry hump him to get as much glitter on him as possible. It was working.

When they walked out, Connor joined the pair as he had driven his bike as well. “You guys doing anything for Labor Day?”

“Big party at my dad’s farm,” Paul said. “You’re welcome to come if you like. I would have said something about it earlier, but I figured you had plans. Say, see if you can switch Murphy’ and Dianna’s tickets out and you all come on over.”

“Thanks, dude,” Connor replied. “I’ll ask them when I get home and text you. I really want to talk with you guys some more about the motorcycle gig. There’s this thing I heard about up in a town called Helen. Big, like, Bavarian-themed party for Octoberfest. Thought we might ride up that way.”

“It’s really cool, man,” Daryl said.

Dana stuck her head back out the door of the restaurant, holding her hand over her phone, “Hey, Paul! Come here a second.” Paul dashed back over and started talking to her, then she handed him her phone and they stepped back inside.

Daryl had been watching when the pack was offered. He took the Morley from Connor and the two lit up.

“Man, I really meant it when I said we think the world of Paul,” Connor stated. “Have to say though,” he added slyly. “I thought you guys were gonna shake that little trailer right the fuck apart, man! Goddamn, dude!” he teased, laughing, Daryl blushed. “You should’ve seen the look on Andy’s face when he walked up and pointed to Paul’s trailer.”

Daryl looked shaken. He hadn’t thought they’d been overly loud.

“Nah, dude,” Connor reassured. “I’m not mad at it! Do your thing, man. Hey, when it comes to going down on my girl? I love it, man, it’s the best. I do it before, during, after. Anytime.”

Daryl’s burning face broke into that damn grin he could hide about as well as he could hold back an avalanche. Connor gave him a fist-bump, then pointed to his neck. “Those kinda gave it away too.” Realization hit Daryl. He’d been walking around all day with two fresh hickeys, courtesy of his temper tantrum abatement. “You didn’t have ‘em when we met this morning, but they sure as hell were there when you guys got to hair ‘n make-up.”

_Holy fuck!_

He grimaced. Connor caught his embarrassment and scoffed. “Fuck that shit, man! Own that! You got _the_ hottest guy on this set choosing you, the _other_ hottest guy on this set today, by the way—Andy and I took a poll. Here!” Connor took off his cap and placed it on Daryl’s head. “Looks better on you, man.”

Daryl was completely flabbergasted.

“S’all good, dude. Paul is crazy about you.” He looked serious. The actor’s smile was infectious, and Daryl broke into a huge smile, feeling happy and comfortable with his new friend.

“Guess he told you we might have to play house and make-out on camera some, huh? That’s what the top brass is telling us.”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “Kinda got bent about it this morning. That led to these,” he explained, pointing to his neck, “and everything else y’all heard.”

Connor said, “I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it ‘cause I’m not here to wreck this. I’m just doing a really fun job with really fun people, but if it would hurt you and Paul then I can talk to some folks.“

“Nah, man.” Daryl said. Shaking his head, he reached over and hugged Connor. “We’re good man. Thanks, but this is what you guys do. You make-believe. I see that now. What I’ve got with Paul, that’s the real deal.”

“You goddamn right, man!” Connor cried. The artist nodded, squeezing the mechanic’s shoulder in understanding as the both broke out in smiles. They couldn’t help but like each other; it was as if they were cut from opposite sides of the same cloth. “Can I hug you? I’m a big hugger, man.”

“Sure, man, My best friend is a big hugger too. Learned from the best,” Daryl said, getting a big bear hug from the artist. He hadn’t met many guys who had shoulders as wide as his own. “And yeah, I can’t wait to ride. I’ll send you a list of cool places around North Georgia.”

“ _Ride Along_ ,” said Connor. “That’s what I’m calling it.”

“That rocks!” Daryl agreed.

“C’mere, dude,” Connor said, crossing arms around each other’s shoulders as he took out his camera and took several shots, including one licking Daryl’s cheek and causing him to burst out laughing.

“Here,” Connor said, exchanging numbers and texting the photos to Daryl and Paul. “I’m gonna head out, but you guys ride safe, and maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later, man!” called Daryl.

Paul caught back up, hugged Connor goodbye, reminding him to text if they could make the party, and joined his handsome boyfriend at their motorcycles.

Connor yelled out to Paul over his motorcycle engine, “Your boyfriend’s got really good taste! Oh, and I like his bike too! Night guys!” And with that, he took off.

Daryl slid up behind Paul, let his massive arms wrap his darling up, and perched his head on Paul’s shoulder.

“You ready to go my stuff and head over to your place?” Paul asked. His voice went all breathy. “I believe you have some aggressive duties to perform.”

“We’re going to stay at your place,” Daryl declared. “You got a hot tub.” Paul turned in his man’s god-like arms and leered.

“I think you can stay over.”

“Call your mama, if you need to ask permission,” Daryl jested, slotting their laughing lips together.

“Oh my god!” yelled Laura. “Get a room!” She and Dana had just made their way out of the bar and were waiting for their drivers.

“I don’t know. I think I could stand to see a little more hot guy-on-guy action,” said Dana, shrugging and giving the two a wink. “Just saying!” The woman’s laugh was like music.

They walked over, hugged Paul and Daryl goodbye, and got into their rides, heading home until early Tuesday morning. Daryl and Paul put on their helmets, started their engines, and made their way back to Paul’s place.

Once the bikes were stowed away, the garage door closed down, and Connor and family had agreed to come to Greene farm, Daryl backed Paul up to the kitchen island, took him by the waist, and sat him up on top of it.

“Stay,” he commanded quietly, punctuating it with a quiet kiss.

Paul watched as his man walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a couple of beers, opened them and walked out the back door onto the patio deck. He sat the beers down beside the edge of the pool. Paul smiled as he watched Daryl walk over and turn on the hot tub with practiced ease, He reached into the side cabinet and removed two beach towels and one of the new bottles of lube they’d picked up, placing it beside the pool. He watched his redneck take off his boots and shirt, looking directly back through the bay window into Paul’s smiling face. Stalking back to the door, Daryl unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and dropped them, kicking them off into a lounge chair and walking with his massive manhood bouncing heavily, already half-hard and growing fast. The look on his face was Dixon glare perfection, laser focused. Paul’s smile sublimated to perfect understanding. Daryl was going to make it happen, and there would never be room for jealousy ever again.

Daryl strode back into the kitchen and right up to Paul. He cupped his young man’s face and kissed him. He started deep and slow, and soon his tongue moved forward into Paul’s inviting mouth. Paul placed his hands on Daryl’s wide, muscular chest and stroked his pecs and up to his shoulders and back. He leaned in and gently licked at the marks he’d made earlier.

“I can cover those, for tomorrow—“

“Shh.” Daryl’s kiss stifled and silenced Paul’s words. “Everybody who matters knows I’m with you. I ain’t ashamed of the marks you leave on me when we’re making love. Let everybody else be fucking jealous.” He slowly began working his hands under Paul’s shirt at the back while nuzzling, mouthing, and licking at Paul’s throat, his beautiful man’s head thrown back to give him whatever he wanted.

Daryl worked his hands up the taut muscle of Paul’s back and eased his hands around to the front as Paul arched his back. Daryl lifted the shirt off over Paul’s head and dropped it to the counter. He took Paul’s face in his hands again, and licked him slowly across the lips letting his young man suck at his hot, wet tongue.

Paul’s eyes were closed and he was running his hands down Daryl’s stomach and abdomen, bending to get to his divine man’s heavy, hard organ, pointing out to him. His own pants were way too tight, and his cock needed to be set free soon. Feeling Daryl’s beard and lips close on his left nipple made him suck in a hissing breath and the teasing of his lover’s teeth tore a moan from his throat. He pinched and twisted Daryl’s left nipple between his thumb and finger. His hunter responded with a groan of his own. He could feel Daryl’s big, strong hands, massaging his thighs hard and rough through his jeans. They rose higher until they got to the belt buckle. Daryl’s mouth worked its way back up to Paul’s shoulder. As Paul nuzzled his own beard and lips against Daryl’s left ear, the brawny redneck began to suck out a mark on his man. Paul felt Daryl unbutton his jeans and slowly unzip them, still sucking in the love mark that he was so diligently making. His fingers were running under the jeans, finding the waistband of the underwear below and bypassing it. Paul found himself lifted up into Daryl’s powerful arms and being carried out the back door. He came to rest on his feet long enough to shed his jeans and boxer briefs before being hoisted again, arms and legs wrapped around his god-of-a man as Daryl walked them step-by-step down into the shallow end of the swimming pool. He could feel Daryl’s proud cock bumping up against the cleft of his ass. Daryl eased them out and lifted Paul and put him on a float on his elbows and stomach, pulling his floating legs back and lowering himself to Paul’s prize. Daryl’s fingers rubbed and circled while Paul struggled to keep his balance on the float as he adjusted his ass up.

“Easy, baby,” Daryl intoned, low and full of promise. “This is my show.” With that, he knelt behind him. Placed Paul’s legs up on his massive shoulders, grasped and spread his beloved man’s cheeks with his powerful hands, and proceeded to worship the tiny rosebud with his eager tongue.

Paul squirmed and shifted under the command of his lover’s tongue. Daryl stroked a heavy hand up and down on his beautiful man’s cock, working his tongue and mouth down the young man’s perineum to this balls at the surface of the water. He opened his mouth wide and alternated licking and sucking gently on Paul’s huge balls while he slowly circled Paul’s tight ring of muscle with his forefinger.

“Daryl, please!” Paul panted. “Baby, I need you! Please!”

Daryl rose up from the water and pulled Paul up over his massive shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He got him out of the pool and shifted him with the strength of a mountain, carrying him at the hips as Paul looked down into those storm blue eyes. It was possessive and perfect, a reiteration of how much they meant to each other, how deeply they loved.

In yet another impressive feat, he held Paul up with one arm, never straining, that Dixon stare now full of a promise to fulfill a need, Daryl opened the cover of the hot one-handed and lowered Paul in gently with the other, following him in. Here they made out and continued their sport, leaving deep red love marks and love bites on each other, claim of passion made visible.

By the time they made it into the house, still dripping from the pool and hot tub, Paul couldn’t wait any longer; he knew he didn’t want to go all the way to the bed. Instead, brought Daryl down onto the living room floor. There were tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces. Daryl rolled onto his back as Paul straddled him, lined up, and sunk down; Daryl reached up and took hold of Paul’s hips, thrusting to meet the demands of their bodies. Daryl sat up, drawing the man close as he continued to bounce on his man’s huge cock. They latched their mouths onto each other.

“Baby, I’m so fucking close,” Paul whined, then he scrunched his face and bit at Daryl’s shoulder, his moans becoming a symphony. Daryl’s teeth found the tender skin at Paul’s collarbone and clamped down. Paul shuddered in his arms and jets of his passion struck Daryl all the way to his chin and throat, leaving them slick and sticky. Daryl painted Paul’s insides in one of the best climaxes of his young life. Paul leaned back shaking. He was crying in Daryl’s arms.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he sobbed.

Daryl let him cry it out as they rode down their excitement. After a few minutes he spoke again. “How did you know?”

“Just did what you do,” Daryl whispered. “It’s about getting you off, not getting me off. I know that I love you with every thing in me, and you love me. It’s my place to show you that. We both been without it for too long.”

“That” he added, playfully, ”and Connor gave me his sex machine cap.” They both started laughing as Daryl recounted Connor’s tale from earlier.

“We’re not the first to admit to fucking in a stage trailer,” said Paul. “Hell, Mae West wasn’t up in hers playing _Scrabble_. That’s for damn sure!” He kissed Daryl and smiled, then said, “I’m gonna go turn off the hot tub and lights. Meet me in the shower?”

“Let’s just clean up quick for now. Shower in the morning,” Daryl countered, tucking Paul’s hair behind one ear, bringing his fingers around to wipe away a tear, and tracing his gorgeous man’s smile. “My man needs his rest before we go party with the family tomorrow.”

“You’re goddamn right, I’m your man. Ain’t no other,” Paul whispered, kissing his perfect partner as Daryl eased out of him. “Go ahead. I’ll be right up.” He kissed Daryl again, rose to his feet, and stepped out back while Daryl went up to the master bath. He put away the lube, covered the hot tub, turned it and the lights off, dropped other their towels in the utility room and went to clean up in the garage entry bathroom before making a final stop by the freezer.

When Daryl looked up, Paul was walking in the bedroom door with a couple of napkins and a silver foil-wrapped ice cream block. “So, what _would_ you do for a Klondike Bar?” Daryl could see it was chocolate-chocolate—his favorite.

“I think we’ve established that, don’t you?” Daryl laughed, and Paul chuckled and joined him in bed, sharing the treat with his ultra-hot boyfriend before turning out the lights, entwining their legs, and resting his head on that incredible chest, hair splayed out because he knew his perfect, beloved Daryl loved the feeling on his skin.

“ ** _I love you._** ”

Sleep found the happiest men alive.


	7. Cobra Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul pick up guests for Labor Day at Greene Farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, and thanks for the comments!

“Tuesday evening is our first Death Day Dinner, so I may be a little late getting home,” said Paul as they drove along in Daryl’s big truck. “One of the main cast is getting killed off, and Andy had started this thing to let folks be able to say goodbye and celebrate the cast members they’d all be missing from the story going forward. Now, it’s become a kind of tradition, and I think it’s really sweet.”

“That’s really cool,” said Daryl, brushing his thumb over the knuckles of Paul’s hand, currently joined together with his in the center console.

Daryl turned left onto Old Sanctuary Road. The road had only been paved within the last ten years, having been red Georgia clay before. Three houses made up the neighborhood constituency. The first house belonged to Daryl’s friends, Dwight and Sherry. Dwight was an electrician at a local mill and Sherry, a dental hygienist. Their pretty, colonial-style house sat among two dozen enormous pecan trees, providing the land with a canopy of verdant shade for the pristine yards. About a quarter mile further and down on the right was a smaller house with plank siding and vibrant yellow paint that had been Dwight’ and Sherry’s first place. Whoever owned it now had a large garden field planted directly across the road from it. Further back, beyond a left curve and obfuscated by woods, the paved road came to an end at a mailbox and two large, dark green trash cans, continuing on as a long gravel driveway that led to the last house. 

At the back end of the clearing and up a slight incline stood a contemporary-style, single story home of red-stained cedar wood with dark, vertical windows. Wide, smooth flagstones made a walkway up to the front porch. To the right and parallel to the driveway stretched a small pond with majestic cypress trees growing in clusters here and there to touch the sky. A small dock extended from the edge of the pond nearest the walkway. Right next to it was a small white sand pile that had been poured in to create, as the cute hand-painted sign indicated, “World’s Smallest Beach!” complete with lounge chairs and mini-table. 

Daryl drove around back to where a cherry-red Cadillac CTS and a shiny black GMC Yukon Denali were parked under the car port along with a Harley Davidson Forty-Eight Special and a Honda dirt bike. Along the open left-hand side was a bannister rail running the depth of the carp port. From the roof support hung two medium size window frames filled with stained glass. A Rottweiler was visible and vocal as she jumped vigorously up and down inside the back door, peeking through the door window and trying her best to figure out who dared pull up into her back yard.

“Big dogs don’t bother you none, do they?” Daryl inquired. “She’s sweet, just protective.”

Paul twisted his features in an “As if” look and shook his head. “Baby, I lived on a farm, and my Daddy’s a veterinarian. I think I’ve got this, but hey!” He squeezed his beautiful mechanic’s strong hand. “I love that you asked.”

Daryl smiled and kissed the back of Paul’s hand. The pair got out of the truck as a shadow moved in the hall. The back door opened, releasing the bounding black and russet dog to come barking and bounding toward the men. 

Paul dropped down and let her growl and posture, then come closer to smell and meet him. Once that ritual was completed, she jumped up and snapped playfully at Daryl as he walked around next to Paul. “Hey! Calm down, girl,” Daryl said, watching out for his fingers.

“Lord, Georgia! I swear!” said the lady stepping out back. She wore a light-weight cream colored blouse with comfortable Capri pants and slippers. Her head was covered in a long, blue silk scarf with bold sunflower print. Her eyebrows were missing. “Y’all get out and come in!”

“Georgia!” came a bellow that pierced all the way from inside the hall and kitchen to echo back from the wall of the workshop out beyond the yard. “Sit your springy ass the fuck down! Now!” The dog sat as pretty as you please, looking back at the door where she was waiting for her master to appear. 

“Oh my lord! Hey, Daryl! Hon? Come here! Daryl’s here with company!” Lucille called, waving and smiling softly. “Sorry! She’s all excited now that Daryl’s here. Y’all come on in for a minute and have some coffee with us. Daryl, y’all want some pound cake? Coach made one last night.”

“You ain’t gotta twist my arm,” Daryl jested, scratching Georgia behind the ears and under her chin. “Glad we ran another mile and a half this morning.” 

Paul nodded his agreement as he snapped his fingers and made some clicks at the dog, and she fell on her back, ready for the belly rubbing to commence. He was quick to indulge her. Lucille’s husband joined her at the door, wearing only his boxers and a King County Royals t-shirt, an air of “devil may care” radiating from his lazy smirk.

“Oh, man,” Coach chuckled. “You have gone and done it now. I hope you got room for a big fucking slobbery-ass dog ‘cause you’re not gonna be able to get rid of her now without a fucking tranq dart.” His rolling laugh sounded good to Daryl’s ears.

When Paul stood up and took off his shades, Lucille gasped, one hand at her mouth, the other clutching at her husband’s elbow. “Oh, god! No! Daryl— _oh my god_!“

“I said fuck me sideways with a running chainsaw!” Coach swore. “Are you for real, or are you fucking with me and my wife this morning, Daryl?”

“Naw, Coach,” Daryl said, shaking his head. “We ain’t fucking with y’all. Paul Rovia, this is Coach Negan and his wife Ms Lucille.” Daryl couldn’t help that irresistible smile breaking on his face when Paul stood up next to him and interlaced their fingers. Georgia rolled up to paw softly at his beautiful actor’s shin. Belly-loving time was not over in her world.

“It’s so nice to meet you both!” Paul said, shaking hands with Coach and gently returning a big hug from Lucille. She was frail, and her pallor was evident, but she also seemed more energetic than Daryl had seen her in a while. 

“I can’t believe this!” Lucille cried, breaking her hug with Paul. “It’s really _you_! Here with our Daryl!” Her laughter made her cough a bit as if she hadn’t laughed enough of late.

“Get the fuck outta here! I figured Rick was off his fucking rocker when he told me you were dating Jesus. Thought I was gonna have to call Georgia Regional my damn self to send the men in white coats and cart him off to a fucking padded cell. I said _holy_ fuckety-fuck!” 

“I am so sorry, guys,” Lucille said. “My husband can walk into a bar, open his mouth, and sailors go running out. Thinks he’s still out at the ball field. I guess the players are either too scared or too in love with him to report it.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am,” Coach answered softly, reining in his colorful metaphors—at least for the moment, as he was winking at the boys conspiratorially. 

“You really are dating Jesus from _Heisenberg_?” Lucille said, start-struck to be damned, hands flying up in excitement to cover her mouth. “We own the whole series, every season! I just finished watching season five again! It’s one of our favorites.”

“Oh, baby! There is definitely some hardcore dick-sucking and ass-fucking going on over at somebody’s place,” declared Coach. “Look here!” He poked a finger up and tilted Daryl’s shirt collar aside. “Either there’s a hell of a vampire on the loose, or there’s some fucking hickey-inducing activities going on at Daryl’s house! Emphasis on the fucking part!” Negan guffawed as he leaned back and bounced himself back over, clapping his hands together once in a big “gotcha” stance. “I’m guessing there’s video, huh?”

“Boundaries, baby!” Lucille admonished. Negan was still giving the fellows a sly nod and a mutt’s grin that said he knew what they’d been up to. 

Daryl chuckled, shook his head, and flicked his bangs out of his face. “We ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, shrugging modestly. His right arm instinctively slid around Paul’s waist to draw him into his right side. His beautiful actor mirrored him automatically, hand resting strong and proud on Daryl’s left hip, thumb hooked in the top of his jeans at the start of his Atlas belt.

 ** _“He’s my everything,”_** came their double-voiced words.

They looked at each other as if time had stopped, the ride gained in speed, an exhilarating rush that shook them. The kiss was wonderful. It was only the combination of Lucille’s squeal of delight, Coach Negan’s sly chuckle, and Georgia’s resonating bark that snapped the pair back into the present.

“Y’all need us to go back inside?” Coach joked. “I can throw y’all out a blanket and a can of Crisco?”

“Damn, Coach!” Daryl snorted. “Swingin’ for the fences this morning, ain’t cha?” He and Paul had not been offended in the least by the man’s jest. Paul got the feeling Coach Negan’s sense of humor had been dark to begin with and probably much less abundant of late.

“Baby!” Lucille admonished. “I swear! I’m gonna have to hit you in the head with a baseball bat!”

“I’m just fucking with ‘em, Lucy-girl,” Coach confessed, smiling and kissing his wife’s forehead. “Besides, you and me know how that goes, right?”

“You know, it’s a big, big— _so_ big, fucking _huge_ —thing to ask,” Paul joked right back playfully shuddering as he was apparently thinking of Daryl’s more than considerable size; Coach and Lucille burst out laughing again. “But we’ll try to contain ourselves, Coach! “ Paul teased.

Daryl just shook his head and huffed a laugh. “Look who’s talking, Little Big Man,” he quipped at Paul, whose jaw dropped and eyes went wide at the playful comeback. “Should call you Jesus, the Impaler.”

“Ah hah!” cried Coach, laughing heartily and giving Paul and Daryl a high-five each.

“So, we all got lucky!” Lucille added, pushing another round of laughter and dirty grins, giving both guys a high-five of her own, and laying a big wet smooch on her tall, dark husband. Coach just shrugged, puffed up his chest, and nodded, bending down to whisper something sweet to his wife and give her another quick kiss before ordering Georgia to be quiet.

“But to answer your question,” Paul continued, reaching to give love to the big dog who had jumped back up to put her paws on his chest. “Yes, we’re a couple.”

“Aww,” Lucille gushed. “That’s the best news!”

“Y’all, come in and get some coffee and some of that bad-ass fucking pound cake my beautiful wife taught me how to make last night,” Coach said, ushering them all in the back open that had been left open. “Georgia! Go lay down. Good girl. Lay down!” The dog preceded them into the house, stopping to plop down unceremoniously on top of a large brown dog pillow. 

Paul followed Lucille to the kitchen table that looked out a large window with a view of the car port, backyard, Coach’s workshop, a homemade athletic field, complete with goal posts, and a home garden lying fallow and fecund beyond. Daryl stopped to speak quietly with Coach while they grabbed a few mugs hanging from the pegs under the cabinets, filled each with the high-end Keurig machine. Daryl excused himself to step into the restroom and returned a moment later.

“Here, hon!” Lucille said, smiling as she handed over a roll of paper towels. “We’re gonna be extra fancy this morning and eat on the quicker-picker-upper!” she said, laughing as she lifted the lid on a plastic cake carrier. About three-quarters of one of the most beautiful, golden-crusted pound cakes Paul had ever seen graced the tray. 

“Darling, would you bring us a knife?” Lucille called. Paul jumped to follow her directions and found the utensil drawer. He brought it back over.

“That looks incredible!” Paul praised.

“Coach can take direction when he wants to!” Lucille quipped. She cut slices of the cake and placed them on folded paper towels for everyone, herself included. It was good to see that she had an appetite. “Easy to wash dishes after, right?”

“I’m a fan of that method,” said Paul as they sat down together. 

“Now, I have about a million questions,” started Lucille. 

“Okay,” Paul nodded, smiling at the delicate lady. 

“First, I had thought Rick said you were Hershel’s and Annette’s son,” she clarified. “I’ve met them, and I knew they had kids, but I don’t know them very well. 

“I was an orphan,” Paul explained. “I grew up in group homes, mostly here and one in Virginia. I was in a couple of foster families, but I lucked out to be taken in by the Greene’s. Hershel’s first wife died, and he remarried when Maggie and Shawn were younger. Our little sister Beth is Hershel’ and Annette’s daughter. I joined the family when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, okay, okay,” Lucille nodded. Coach and Daryl came over and placed the mugs down. 

The cake made Daryl moan in praise. “Mmm,” he nodded. “Coach, I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Not so much, but I can follow my wife’s directions,” he laughed. There was a slight pang of unspoken regret in his words. 

They talked about Paul’s role on _Heisenberg Theory_ , _Death Ascendant_ , and how he got started. Lucille said she couldn’t keep up with the zombie drama as well as Coach, who happened to be a fan of the show. He even had a couple of pretty awesome theories about the virus he’d kicked around with a friend of his, Dr. Edward Jenner, who worked in epidemiology at the Centers for Disease Control. They’d both graduated together from Clemson in their undergraduate days. 

“Now, I get to ask the stuff I really want to know,” Lucille said, “but if it’s too personal, well you just get to answer it anyway because I am a dying woman, and y’all have already told us that you have big peckers, so that bell’s already been rung!” Daryl almost did a spit take with his coffee as Paul laughed out. “I wanna know how y’all met.”

“Conspiracy by some people who love both of us a whole-fucking-lot,” Daryl answered simply, smiling at Paul. His thumbnail had found his mouth and he looked shy, hiding under his bangs.

“I am not sure whose idea it was exactly, but at this point, I’m just so very thankful they did,” Paul said, taking Daryl’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m pretty sure it involves my sisters, Beth and Maggie, Maggie’s husband, Glenn…”

“Our beloved Sheriff, Ricky Dicky-Doo-Dah Grimes,” Daryl added, “and Merle. And I promise you: where there’s Rick and Merle, Michonne and Carol ain’t far behind. Hell, thinking back now to how Shane was being all inquisitive week ‘fore last when I was working on her car, I wouldn’t put it past them to have him and Lori in league. We got some meddling-ass family, that’s for sure, but as Rick says, Law of Averages—things gotta work out good sometimes. Been better than good.” Daryl leaned over toward Paul, then looked to Coach and Lucille. “See here?” He turned back to Paul, his beautiful actor stared into his soul with those misty-blue eyes. Paul fell into sync with Daryl, the ride slinging them up and around, catching air while inertia played havoc. Paul touch his gorgeous hunter’s face; his luscious pink lips moved.

**_“I love you so goddamn much.”_ **

The Negan’s eyes went wide. Lucille’s audible gasp filled the silence. 

“Yep. You boys are _so fucking fucked_!” Coach declared. Warm, delightful belly laughter rolled through the kitchen, rousing Georgia from her pillow to come investigate and try a crumb or two of the delicious cake from mama’s fingers. 

An hour later, they pulled in and parked in the side yard of the Greene’s home right next to Merle’s pickup. Coach helped his wife get out, reassuring her that he was told they didn’t have to bring a thing but themselves and an appetite. She promised to try her best. Coach looked down and blinked his eyes several times very fast, then sniffed and walked in the back kitchen door with her. 

Paul slipped a hand around Daryl. “How bad is it?”

Daryl hung his head. “Who knows? Her doctors think this may be the last push before the end. Negan said you could have knocked him over with a feather when she got up and put in to cook a damn pound cake last night. He had to make her sit and tell him what to do, worried she’d kill herself trying to fight through it; had to talk her out of making the pecan pies too. Says she says her pain is more manageable, and she feels a lot better of late now that she’s off her treatments.” Daryl looked up with sad eyes. “I’m worried it ain’t gonna be long. She’s a nice lady.”

Paul reached up and stroked Daryl’s neck, pulling him into a comforting hug. “Yes, she is,” Paul agreed, “so let’s make her about as happy as can be in the time she has left.” Daryl nodded and wiped his eyes with his palms, looking up to see Merle, Rick, and Shane coming over. 

“Hey, baby brother, Paul,” Merle said, reaching out to squeeze their shoulders.

“Hey, man,” Daryl said.

Merle just nodded. He’d obviously seen them arrive and witnessed the recent exchange. “I know man. It’s a piss-poor hand to play, but she’s tough. Hell, she could almost be a Dixon! Now, come on. There’s about sixty-five billion young’uns looking for Uncle Daryl and his new boyfriend from TV.”

Daryl huffed a laugh, “Oh, shit. Really?”

As if on cue, Carl and his best friends Duane Jones and Ron Anderson came flying around the back of the house with Ron’s younger brother Sam bringing up the rear. 

“Uncle Daryl!” Carl cried as they came racing up.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Rick laughed. “You fellas slow down. Let’s let your Uncle Daryl get settled in. Y’all go get your swimsuits on and get in the pool, or go play one of the games or something until it’s time to eat,” the sheriff ordered. “And make sure y’all get that sunscreen from Ms Jenny. Nobody wants to have to suffer through a sunburn, right?” 

Tara had parked her Nissan Juke on the other side of Daryl’s truck. She and Denise conscripted the boys into their service, unpacking several coolers from the vehicle before they could scatter. Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene arrived just as Phillip and Andrea pulled up and got out to greet the others. Sasha, Bob, Tyreese, and his girlfriend Karen were hanging out back with Dr Greene, Mr Otis and Ms Patricia, and Dr Carson as DJ Eduardo began an afternoon musical set, walking around to greet guests and network while checking his speaker levels. Sophia and Enid were riding along behind Beth and Zach in the nearby horse pasture. Carol, Maggie, Lori, and Michonne were entertaining Judith and Gracie while Glenn and Ms Annette coordinated with the catering staff. 

Aaron and Eric arrived with Jared and Alden about half an hour later. The stylists got a few inquisitive looks as they passed through the crowd and toward the house with their portable styling sets. Jared called for Jessie to break away from the poolside for a moment and join them. Eric turned to Daryl and nodded, mouthing, “We got this!” as he turned to step in the front door.

Paul reach up, took Daryl’s face in his palms and lifted up on his toes to kiss the kindest man who ever walked into his life. “You are too much!” he whispered. “Tell me you know how sweet that was, please?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I called the boys when we was over at Coach’s house. Ms Lucille always made an effort to look nice everywhere she went. Now that her strength is, well… I figured it was Safe Zone to the rescue. The better she feels about herself, maybe the more quality time she and Coach can have together. You shouldn’t squander time. They don’t make no more of it.” He shrugged, placed his hands firmly on Paul’s hips, and drew him close so their pelvises were flush. He could feel Paul’s manhood twitch against his own. 

“A-hem!” Rick cleared his throat. “You fellas mind? There are some kids around, and I’d hate to have to cite you for lewd acts statute violations.”

“Naw,” Daryl shook his head. “We don’t mind.” He kissed Paul boldly, pulling his man’s glorious hair back and letting their tongues fight in heated fashion.

“Holy _god_ ,” muttered Shane. “Any of y’all ever seen any gay porn?”

Merle chuckled, “Y’all dial that shit back before you give Officer Friendly a heart attack. C’mon. It’s almost 12:30, and they ‘bout to ring the dinner bell.” 

Daryl and Paul broke apart slowly. He made sure to introduce Paul to Shane Walsh. After, they walked about and let Hershel have a moment to brag on his “sons” with a few of his colleagues from the college. Daryl introduced Paul around to his crowd, and Paul reciprocated. Once those obligatory pleasantries were complete, Paul took Daryl out to the barn to show him the hay loft and take care of their mutual arousal away from prying eyes.

About the time lunch was being served, Eric and Jessie opened the door of the back porch and called for Coach Negan. The man hurriedly put down his beer, a look of worry crossing his face until he saw her. Stepping out of the back screen door, Jared attentively at her side, and being careful of her steps, was Lucille Negan. Gone was the sallow complexion, replaced by rosy cheeks as glossy pink lips. The curled, auburn wig she wore was only discernable because these people had been familiar with her condition; as it was, it removed two decades from her face. When she looked up and saw her husband, her grin carried a mischievous note that had obviously been long overdue and sorely missed.

“Fuck. Me,” said Coach. 

“May _be_ ,” said Lucille, not missing a chance to clap back, her perfectly penciled eyebrows arching just right and reminding Coach of the reasons he’d proposed over two decades ago.

Kids gasped at the swear word, but several authoritative adults “shut that shit down” with appropriate levels of side-eye. 

Jared whispered something to Lucille, who wiped her eyes and hugged his neck. As he walked past Tara, he gave her and Denise a fist-bump, saying, “Now _that’s_ the power of a motherfucking lace-front, bitches!” and heading inside to find Jessie and Eric and steal the Kleenex from them before those two used it all.

Father Gabriel gave thanks and blessed the bounty and all of those present. Daryl remembered back to a church social dinner he’d gone to with Rick’s family a couple of years before. He and Paul went by table to table, greeting guests and swapping news. They sat with Maggie and Glenn, catching them up on the latest developments and enduring the ribbing that the couple gave them over their obvious love marks.

After lunch, Daryl smoked a cigarette and they sat together in the shade of a huge oak tree while Beth and Zach sat together kissing in the porch swing on the west-facing veranda. Carl and company were playing a board game inside, hating that their parents still believed a person had to wait thirty minutes after eating before being allowed to go swimming. Enid and Sophia sure hadn’t waited and were already splashing away with a couple of other friends. 

“Want to go riding later?” Paul asked. 

“Maybe,” Daryl nodded. “Be nice. Hell, hot as it is, we could have gone swimming too.” 

Paul rose to his feet and reached a hand out to his love. Daryl put out his smoke and took his beautiful actor’s hand, loving that the young man was powerful enough to hoist him up. “You want to go swimming?” 

“Ain’t going in my underwear,” scoffed Daryl. “Rick, Shane, and Tara will have us under the damn jail.”

“Shawn will let us wear some of his stuff,” Paul assured. He pulled Daryl along into the house, found his brother, and confirmed his assertion. In a few minutes, they had gone up to Shawn’s room and changed into some of his swim trunks. 

Paul grabbed a couple of towels from the main linen closet and led Daryl out through the kitchen, onto the back porch, and down to the pool. Merle, Shane, Tara, and Rick were already in the water and engaging in a water volleyball Battle Royale with Shawn, Zach, Beth, and Glenn. Daryl and Paul slipped off their shirts, looked at each other, and ran forward to jump out and splash down two open can-openers that threw water over two-thirds of the pool. Girls screeched and boys cheered. Daryl and Paul squared off against each other, Daryl with the Greene kids and his ultra-cute boyfriend with his family. 

A close match ensued with Paul spiking Glenn for the win and getting read the riot act by Maggie for trying to kill her husband before he got to see his firstborn. Soon, Paul was hoisted on Daryl’s shoulders, taking on Rick and Merle and Tara and Shane in chicken fights. Tara and Shane were the final victors when Paul and Rick were unceremoniously dunked under by an influx of kids jumping in to take them down. Daryl came up spluttering and hacking through his laughter, swearing to finally give up smoking once and for all. 

They all got out of the water, grabbed their towels to wrap around themselves, and made their way over to where Annette and Hershel were sitting with some friends. Annette got up and kissed her boys, shaking her head and giving the pair a crooked smirk. 

“Son?” Hershel said, not distinguishing which of the pair he was addressing as in his world it covered them both. “Do I need to come treat that hot tub of yours for leeches?” Mr and Mrs Rhee, Mr Otis and Ms Patricia, and Mr Dale Horvath joined in the friendly teasing. 

The two men chuckled and smiled back slyly at the patriarch and company. “No shame in our game, Daddy,” Paul said, bending down to kiss Annette’s check and again on his father’s balding pate. 

Hershel reached up, took their hands, and made them look clearly at his face. “We love you two, and we’re damn proud of you. You’re Mama and I are about to bust our buttons bragging on the both of you here. We want y’all to know you’re both welcome to stay with us tonight, if you want. We can manage to get Coach and Lucille home.” He stood to lean in closer to his sons. “We can put an extra pillow behind that old headboard in your room if you’re worrying about us hearing you two. And in case it’s anybody else’s concern, this is your home too, my sons.”

Daryl’s eyebrows jumped for the sky and a nervous laugh escaped his throat. Paul came to his rescue. “Daddy, that’s really kind of you both, and I promise we will stay with you guys for a couple of nights, and even do it loudly in my old room so y’all can brag some more to our family and friends; we will also find time to stay with Maggie and Glenn some and catch up with the siblings, but tonight I need to have Daryl all to myself, if that won’t upset things too much.”

“Come on, Hershel,” Dale prompted. “They have to go finish playing connect the hickeys!”

Hershel shook his head, and Annette answered, “Not a bit in the world, pumpkin bug! Are y’all gonna stay and have some cake and ice cream? I think Jerry and Eugene have about six different churns running between the ones in the kitchen and on the back porch.” 

“You two are so cute together!” Mrs Rhee called out.

Daryl and Paul smiled, and the hunter replied, “Thanks Mrs Rhee! I make him look better!” Paul scoffed and stole a quick kiss. The older crowd just fawned over them.

Paul thanked Mrs Rhee and turned back to Annette. “Mama, you know we didn’t run extra this morning just to come over and not eat any dessert,” Paul said to Annette. Suddenly he gasped, “Tell me you didn’t do it.” 

“I baked a chocolate pie just for you and Daryl to take home, and you know Mama will shoot anyone who tries to get into it first! Don’t worry; Beth, Shawn, Maggie, and Glenn got their very own goodies, so you should too.” 

“You’re still the best!” Paul cried, kissing Annette as she smiled and stroked his face. They broke, and she hugged Daryl, watching the two head back to go up the steps to the back porch. 

The roar of six different electric ice cream churns whirred in varying levels of resistance under the watchful eye of Dr Eugene Porter. “That dark chocolate custard is crying out your name, Daryl!”

“You are my ice cream genius, Eugene! Thanks for making it again, man,” Daryl praised. 

“My genuine pleasure, sir, and thanks for tricking out the Vespa,” Eugene replied. “She’s now a model of peak performance in her fighting class.”

Daryl huffed a laugh at Paul’s confusion. “Speaking of, are we gonna have to fight Jerry for some of that Georgia peach?”

“You know it, dude!” yelled Jerry, carefully sprinkling rock salt over the top of the ice in one of the churns. “Eugene and I have gotten super-scientific about all this! Should be ready in about eighteen more minutes,” he said, checking the timer on his smartphone.

Paul followed the silent pull of Daryl’s hand on his wrist as they walked into the kitchen getting wolf whistles from Aaron and Rosita. Daryl turned himself and Paul to face them while continuing backwards, an arm around Paul’s chest, rubbing his boyfriend’s right nipple with the forefinger of the bird he was now flipping them, and receiving cackles of delight from their friends.

As they passed through the family room, he broke away to walk out front and check out the animated laughter coming from a story Shane, Rick, and Tara were telling about a recent arrest. Paul pulled up to a stop when he glanced over into the living room. Ron and Duane were gathered around Carl; the young man was visibly upset, on the verge of tears. Paul walked in almost by rote, having seen scenes like this play out over and over in the group homes. 

“What’s going on?” Paul asked. He tried to keep his voice neutral. “You get a belly ache after all?”

Carl slowly shook his head.

“You need us to get your parents?” Paul asked, now very concerned. 

Ron spoke up. “It’s my fault, Mr Rovia. I—I’m really sorry. When we were all in the pool, I saw Mr Daryl’s scars, and I asked what happened to him.” Paul caught Carl tense up, bent down, and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, instantly giving balm to the knee-jerk reaction. “I’m sorry, Carl.” Ron continued. “I’m a total dip-shit asshole.”

“You didn’t say anything on purpose. You just didn’t know, man,” Duane said, trying to placate his friends and, in truest fashion, following in his father’s footsteps as peacemaker. “None of us have ever seen Mr Daryl without his shirt. He always keeps it on when he swims.”

Paul knelt down in front of Carl and the boys. Daryl stood just outside the doorway with Rick. The actor knew his man had summoned his brother over the moment he’d heard Paul ask Carl if he needed his folks. They waited quietly and let Paul continue. Carl started to break down and Paul pulled him to his shoulder. When he finished, Paul saw that Rick, Lori, Michonne, Merle, and Carol had stepped up with Daryl, listening at the door. The other boys patted the teenager’s back as he looked up to meet his uncle’s face.

“Did his dad do that to him?” he puffed. “Just because he’s gay?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, nodding. “But he also did it because he was broken, hurting, and mean as cat shit, and I’m betting he never had anybody like Carol to help him out of it and learn a different way. None of that makes it any better. Your Uncle Merle got it bad too.” Paul glanced over and looked at Rick and Daryl, now standing closer in the doorway, but still unobserved by the boys. Daryl nodded his consent, and Paul spoke. “Guys, your Uncle Daryl was about three years older than you are now when the worst of it happened to him. He was in love,” he peeked at Daryl, then back to Carl. “It was another guy, his best friend. His father caught them together and beat him so bad he thought he was going to die. He never saw his boyfriend again. I’m not telling you and your dad this to upset you.” The boys noticed Rick, Daryl, and the others. “Carl, it was your dad who saved Daryl’s life, probably Merle’s too. For years and years, Daryl was made to be ashamed of who he was. He’d been convinced that he was wrong and messed up, and it made him mad at the whole fucking world over it.” 

Daryl circled around the room and knelt down next to his beautiful man, taking Paul’s hand up to his chest. “But I met somebody who was able to see me underneath all the fucked up shit my Daddy did to scar me up and break me, and now, today, I didn’t have one single thought about not taking my shirt off in front of him, or you, or Carol, or anybody out here, because this man loves me, and I love him, and we found each other and know that we’re okay. So, Carl—I want you to look at me, look at me—I’m not hurting anymore. Okay? Your Uncle Daryl is still strong as an ox, stubborn as a mule, and right as rain. You feel me?” Merle nodded as he let Carol wipe a tear from his face and kiss his cheek softly in the background.

The young man looked up and huffed a laugh, a smile finally breaking through. “Sorry about—“

“Don’t be,” Daryl said. “Just use it, share it with your friends or whoever you think needs to hear it, and just know that Paul and me, we’re working on our happily ever after.” 

“He’s dating Merlin, dude!” added Duane. “Who can fault that?”

“True,” said Daryl. “That I am.” Paul huffed a laugh.

“This is so true,” intoned Carl. “Thanks, guys!” Carl hugged his pals, then his uncle and Paul. “Thanks, Uncle Daryl. And thank you, Paul!” He whispered to Paul, but he was sure everyone heard. “He’s never been so happy.” 

Paul ruffled the teen’s damp hair. “You guys should go get Enid and Sophia. I think the mad scientist and the big, friendly giant are almost ready with the ice cream.” He and Daryl rose and stepped over to Rick while Lori and Michonne ushered the kids back out to the porch to check on Eugene’ and Jerry’s progress. Lori hugged Paul’s neck and thanked him. Michonne gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her husband’s arm before going in to check on the kids.

“He’s okay. I didn’t think about it, just took off my shirt,” Daryl explained.

“Well,” Rick sighed. “You’re allowed to have a slip up.”

“ _Slip up_?” Daryl leaned back. “What the hell you mean by that?”

Rick shrugged, “I just mean—well, you wouldn’t have missed something like that if you weren’t so caught up in this thing with Paul right now—“

“ _Thing_ with Paul?” Daryl said, his voice becoming accusatory. “What’s this right now horseshit, man? Just say what you really think this time. Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s rainin’!”

Carol and Merle stepped in. “Daryl, hon?” she started. Daryl cut her off with a withering stare, but he immediately caught himself and turned it back to RIck who was annoying the ever-loving piss out of him at the moment. 

“Cool down, baby bro,” Merle said. “Simmer on down.”

“Nah, man,” Daryl said, blowing off Merle’s suggestion, still focused on his other brother. “How ‘bout you don’t heap your shit on me,” Daryl warned his face in inch from Rick’s.

Rick stepped back, his brow furrowed and a look of dismay plastered on his face. “My shit?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. You resent it.”

“What in god’s name are you going on about?” Rick said, squinting, hands on hips.

“You’re jealous,” Daryl spat.

“What do you even mean, jealous?” Rick said, still not getting it and that fact angering Daryl even more. “I’m not jealous—“

“Yes! Yes, you are,” Daryl said, bringing his voice down as Michonne, Shane and Lori gathered round. “You’re projecting your failure with Lori on me and Paul.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rick snapped. 

Daryl just rolled over his denial. “You two got so hot and heavy so fast, and Carl came along, and you two had to shift gears and you both flew apart at the seams because you weren’t on the same page at the same time.” Rick looked as if he’d been slapped. “Now, you act like that’s gonna happen to me and Paul.”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring my child into this,” Rick said coldly. His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment. Daryl’s words had hit their mark. 

“Daryl.” Paul’s voice cut through the tension. 

Daryl closed his eyes and counted. Exhaling heavily through his nose. When he opened them again and spoke, his words were thick and burdened. “I love you, Rick. I do. Man, you saved my life, and I will always be grateful. But, it doesn’t give you the right to treat my feelings for Paul like they ain’t real just because it didn’t work for you.” 

“Daryl?” Paul asked, voice magic in Daryl’s ears. “C’mere, baby.” Daryl all but fell onto Paul’s shoulder. “This whole moment has been very tense. Can you go upstairs and wait for me and Rick?” Daryl stood up straight, nodded, and kissed Paul, taking in the reassurance his beautiful angel offered before picking up his abandoned towel and heading quietly up the stairs. 

“Rick?” 

The sheriff snapped out of his head and back into the moment. The hurt and anger racing through his veins was evident everything about him: posture, glaring expression, red face, clenched fists, hard breathing. Rick turned and started for the door. 

“I’m so sorry. Really,” Paul started. Rick’s head snapped up and he stopped dead in his tracks, once again taken aback as if he’d expected another reaction. “You guys have been so close for so long that adding a newcomer into the mix must have been really hard on the dynamic. I had a chance for Merle to get to know me a little better, but I haven’t made it a priority to get to know you, and that’s on me.” Rick turned back around to face Paul, his face reflecting how keenly he was listening.

"In a way, you’re right,” Paul continued. “Daryl and I have been very caught up in each other, so much so I missed that it was hurting someone else. Daryl adores you, and he always will; this will heal over. We think it won’t, but that’s the power of family who genuinely love each other. Daryl will always need his big brothers; whether or not he’d ever admit it doesn’t matter one damn bit.” Rick, nodded and licked his lips in introspection. 

“Can you answer a question for me?”

Rick swallowed and nodded with slight, jerky motions. “Yeah?”

“Why did you go along with helping to get Daryl and me together in the first place?”

Rick’s lips parted and he sighed out a ragged breath. “Paul—“ He ran his hand through his hair and started again. “I did it because Daryl’s the sweetest guy on the face of the planet; he’s also the saddest person I know, and I love ’im. The first time I saw Daryl, he was torn to ribbons, beaten black and blue, eyes swollen shut, barely able to breathe with two cracked ribs.” Tears started to stream down Rick’s face. “He was just a _kid_ , man. Goddamn paramedics had to _peel_ the sheets off because they were stuck to him after the blood dried on his back!” Paul reached over and hugged the law man; to his relief, Rick embraced him back. “I’m just trying to look out for him. He’s got so much to offer, and if you let him, he’ll make you so damn happy, Paul.”

“He does,” Paul assured. “Every moment of every day, and I want to give that right back to him. Part of that is making sure I work to fit in with his friends and family in the right way. I'm working all day tomorrow and Wednesday, then I am off until next Thursday morning. I have a promo interview for the show and an LGBTQ event in LA this weekend, and I am planning to take Daryl with me, then on to New York for another interview. My point here, is that I’d like to have you guys over on Thursday evening to my place, if it works for your schedule.”

Rick shook his head, blushing. “God, I’m so stupid, man. I have really stepped in it today.” 

“Then, let’s go get you a new pair of boots, cowboy!” Paul said, smiling and pulling Rick over to give him a tiny kiss on the temple.

“Thanks for what you said back there with Carl and the boys. You really are Jesus, man!” Rick laughed, hugging Paul again.

“Nah,” Paul countered, patting the tall man’s back. “That character was a complete bitch, man!”

They snickered a bit, and Paul led Rick up to his room were Daryl had finished changing and lay face down on the bed, his head buried in his crossed arms. He looked up when Paul opened the door. “Hey.”

“Hey you,” Daryl murmured as Paul crossed the distance to lean down and give him a kiss. 

“Everything is fine from my side,” Paul assured softly. “Rick really needs to talk to you, if you’re up for it.”

Daryl nodded, and Paul quickly retrieved his things, left Daryl and Rick to talk, and went to change back into his clothes and dry his hair. When he got back, Daryl and Rick were hugging it out and ready to head down for dessert. On entering the kitchen, Coach Negan’s familiar voice boomed. “Well, if all that _Real Housewives_ shit is settled, can we get to slicing the fucking cakes? Fucking blood-sugar is plummeting! Am I right Gabe?” Father Gabriel just smiled and nodded jovially.

“Pina Colada Custard is now available!” called Eugene from the back porch. 

“Line starts here!” called Sasha. “Right after Ms Lucille and Coach, Hershel and Annette, Daryl and Paul…”

“What did they do?” griped Ron.

“At-at-at! Hey!” Sasha snipped, holding up a hand. “Nobody said anything about fielding any questions regarding what or why, I am just telling you the reality of the situation. Now, fall in line, people!” 

Paul’s phone rang. When he looked at the screen his face lit up. “Excuse me. Work-related.” He stepped away and out the front door to take the call.

“More for us!” Daryl hollered behind him. 

A few minutes later, there were raised voices and excited gasps as Paul walked back in with Connor Reedus, Andy Kennedy, Laura Cowan, and Dana Greer. Connor explained that he couldn’t get the tickets changed, because Murphy “had a thing” and Dianna had committed to an awards presentation the following day. So instead, he picked up Andy, who was “home alone like a loser,” and he brought the ladies because they were “always looking for a good time.” The artist’s comments earned him a smack to the back of the head and a pinch from his cohort. The crowd went wild. Spencer Monroe and Aaron had broken out the high-end cameras and started photographing the local event of the season. One of the best pictures Aaron got, was of Daryl sitting up on the veranda bannister, leaning with his back against one of the columns while he ate ice cream from Paul’s spoon. Jared and Alden had died and risen in _Death Ascendant_ heaven right next to Michonne, Rosita, Carl, Tara, and many more, posting pictures of themselves with the cast members on their respective social media platforms.

“Hey, Ron,” Duane yelled. “See all these cool-ass TV stars we’re all geeking out over? _That’s_ what they did!”

“Point taken,” said a satisfied Ron, getting a pen from his mother to collect autographs. 

Connor and Merle were discussing motorcycles. Jared and Laura were talking hair care. Dana, Tara, and Denise were playing a game of lawn darts out in the yard with the kids. Andy was having a delightful conversation with Lucille and Coach. 

“All right, beautiful people! Is everyone having a great Labor Day or what?” DJ Eduardo asked across the loud speaker. The resounding cries and applause quickly answered in the affirmative. “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the man who made this all possible today, Dr Hershel Greene, everybody!” More cheers, hoots, and thundering ovation preceded the man as he took the remote mic offered to him by Eduardo.

“I want to thank you all for coming out,” Dr Greene said. “It’s always good to see each and every one of you, but when Annette and I are able to have all of you together, it’s absolutely magical for us. Special thanks go out to some folks. First, y’all give it up for DJ Eduardo for the music, lights, and dance floor set-up.” Eduardo bowed his head and waved back to the audience applause. Hershel continued, “I surely I cannot wait for y’all to watch me ‘Whip and Nae Nae’ this evening. I might be close to drawing Social Security, but my dance moves are on point.” The crowd broke out in raucous laughter. “Why are you laughing, Otis? Pay attention; you might learn something.” Poor Mr Otis was trying desperately to recover from his fit of hysterical laughter. 

“Next, thanks to our friends at Campfire Catering. Mitch and Pete, you and your team have been invaluable to the success of this event.” More applause followed, but it was well-earned. These guys had really gone all out: wild boar, pheasant, prime rib, shrimp from the Golden Isles, even some vegetarian and vegan options. There was another set up further out that no one had been allowed to get out to under a lone set of tents. "Eugene and Jerry, the ice cream's a hit!"

_Who’s gonna eat all that?_

“Also, big thanks to Mr Phillip Blake for providing us a fantastic deal on our celebratory libations this evening. You can keep running your still out of my barn, and ain’t none of us gonna tell Rick Grimes!” the patriarch joked. “Plus, if we get everybody liquored up the right way, we might just bypass mayor and vote you all the way into that pretty mansion on West Paces Ferry up in Atlanta.” This statement drew nearly everyone from their seats; big cheers went up for the local hopeful. Phillip tried to fight a smile and modestly shook his head. Andrea leaned over, kissed her husband, and he finally stood and waved to even bigger shouts of approval from the gathering before returning to his seat.

“On a more personal note,” Hershel said seriously, “it is so good to see Coach and Lucille Negan here today. Annette and I are thrilled that your two could make it. Today, I’ve also had the chance to welcome a few minor celebrities to our gathering,” he jested, chuckling with the crowd. “Please give a round of applause for our friends from the cast of _Death Ascendant_!” The very ground shook as people clapped, yelled, and banged table tops. “I guess I better head over to Merle and Carol’s and get all caught up.”

“Merle’s ahead of me!” Carol yelled out. Merle just shrugged and smirked, guilty as charged.

“Best of all,” Hershel said. “Annette and I are overjoyed to have our whole family all together on this Labor Day. And yeah, y’all just settle in ‘cause I paid for all this, so I get to brag on all of my children for just a minute or two. Maggie and Glenn are coming into the final stretch with our first grandchild.” Cheers abounded. “Glenn, your folks and I agreed that he’ll be the first of many. You’re gonna need more managers as fast as _Short Round_ is growing.” Laughs rang out and Glenn’s parents reached over and kissed and squeezed the happy couple. 

“Shawn is off to a good start, acing his first two exams last week and exempting both Biology courses and their respective labs. Go get ‘em, son!” People shouted their praise and encouragement to the young man. “Beth just blew away her audition for Georgia All-State Chorus and will be sharing a few songs with you good folks tonight when the dance floor gets going.” Beth’s vocal talents were well known, and Daryl couldn’t help adding in an ear-splitting whistle to the adoration of the crowd for his beautiful man’s baby sister. “Finally.” Hershel swallowed, inhaled, and took a moment to collect himself as he looked over at Daryl and Paul.

“Paul has come back home, and I’ve been told that it’s okay to say this: he’s going to be starring with these good folks here on _Death Ascendant_ this season,” he said, waving, to the stars of the show. Those who hadn’t already known joined the excited round of applause. Daryl felt Paul’s fingers interlace with his own as he smiled out to the crowd, bowing his head humbly and waving back. Big cheers came from Paul's co-stars.

“Paul’s been gone a while, but there’s something you folks ought to know: He’s _always_ worked hard at everything; if he wanted it, he labored hard to make it happen, and he did it all on his own. That said, Annette and I are pleased that he’s found happiness in his craft and career, but even more than that,” Hershel’s voice became a little shaky and he sniffed; Maggie and Beth were both wiping tears. 

Hershel raised his glass. “My wife and I are happy to say that our son is no longer alone; he’s working toward a beautiful relationship with a man our family holds in highest regard, and now, I am so proud to say that I have another son. Daryl Dixon, this roller coaster ride you mentioned? I'm here to tell ya, it only gets better from here on out. Welcome home to Greene Farm, my sons!” People rose to toast the happy couple. Daryl had expected something like that only at a wedding or an engagement; he and Paul hadn’t yet come anywhere near that stage, at least in his mind—not that he hadn’t considered the possibility down the line. In the meantime, he and Paul smiled and waved, shook people’s hands, and hugged and kissed well-wishers.

“Oh!” Hershel called out over the microphone. “I know you all are ready for this to get into full swing, and it’s 7:00 now, so the time to answer the question of what else is happening at the little tent back by the training corral is ready to be answered. Follow me, everybody!”

Hershel led a large procession out to the tents. Mitch was removing paper box covers to reveal pies—lots of pies, mile-high whipped cream pies in paper shell crusts. When everyone had gathered around the table and quieted down, the old patriarch spoke again.

“PIE FIGHT!!!” yelled Hershel, grabbing a pie and squaring off with Dale, who hadn’t let grass grow under his feet when he threw a pie, ,missed Hershel, and nailed Otis in the back of the head. 

“Merle, if you throw that pie!” Carol squealed.

“Don’t worry, darling!” cried Merle. “I’ll lick it off.” Carol burst out laughing and dodged totally wrong, taking half a pie to the chest, half to the chin and neck. She grabbed Merle’s shirt front, pulled him down for a kiss, and slapped him up-side the head with the pie she’d been hiding behind her back.

Ms Lucille handed her pie to Rick, who promptly took it and plopped it directly on top of Coach’s head. Coach Negan just sneered back and replied, “Rick, you really do suck ass!” Rick crooned a laugh and back away quickly only to get hit by Shane, Lori, and Michonne, that latter two carrying Gracie and Judith as respective shields. When he’d cleared his eyes and nostrils, a fourth pie was crammed against his neck, oozing down the back of his shirt. 

“Taking it like a champ!” Coach yelled, paper pie shell still stuck to his head and whipped cream slathered down his face and shirt.

Daryl took a pie to the ass from Aaron and retaliated in kind. He was most impressed by Paul dodging pies left and right like some kind of superhero ninja. It wasn’t until Laura and Dana joined forces with Beth, Zach, Shawn, Glenn, Andy, and Connor that he was taken down. Apparently, each had been a significant victim to Paul. The man had even found the awful Red Velvet Cake that Lori Walsh had baked, somehow brought it over, hid it until now, and devastated his co-stars with it. Andy and Connor truly looked like a bloody mess of Red Velvet confection in the end. The kids made their way around to pick up the paper plates and dispose of them in the composting heap near the woods. Mechanics towels and water hoses were available to wash off the remnants of the night battle. 

Drinks, conversation, music, and dancing followed. DJ Eduardo played a wide party mix that landed him three event bookings. When a remix of Shakira's “Whenever Wherever” cranked out, the crowd had to part as Daryl let Paul pull him into the mambo steps he had loved learning out at the airport under his favorite stars. From a glance at the side, Daryl caught Rick with his hand in a fist at his lips, nodding his approval. Merle’s jaw was nearly on the floor. At their spinning kiss, Coach’s bellow of “YES!!!” pulled forth a roar from the audience that cut through the dark Georgia night.

Right on cue, the night exploded with brilliant fireworks reflecting off the nearby fish pond. Daryl and Paul joined the other couples watching and kissing under the fiery flowers.

At the end of the evening, the stars voiced their gratitude and made their goodbyes, guests departed and headed out to their respective homes, and Daryl and Paul drove the Negan’s to the beautiful contemporary house at the end of Old Sanctuary Road. Paul confessed to having heard his father speaking about the pie fight with Mitch just before lunch; hence, he got that cake no one would touch and got rid of it in a creative way. The truck’s occupants were thoroughly grateful not to have to eat Lori’s cooking. When they got out, Lucille thanked them both for the best day she’d had in a long time and made them promise to come to Negan’s poker night a week from Thursday, if they were available. They agreed, and left, heading back to Daryl’s place for the night. 

Daryl drove along, chuckling to himself about the bit of frosting still in Paul’s collar. Out of nowhere, Paul uttered bitterly, “Fuck you, cancer!” and pulled out his phone. 

“What’re you up to?” Daryl asked, glancing over. 

“I overheard Merle saying he was worried that Coach and Ms Lucille were having a little difficulty,” Paul said. 

“She was a Home Ec teacher before she had to retire,” Daryl said. “Coach makes good money, and they have decent insurance, but I don’t think it’s enough with the high-end treatments at Emory. She’d looked for a study, but those can be hard to get into.”

“Exactly,” Paul said, thumbs flying furiously across the screen before he made a call.

“Hey, Connor? You guys all together? Cool. Put me on speaker. Hey guys, thanks for coming today!” There were calls of thanks for having been invited. “Okay, so I would like your permission, and if no, that’s okay, but you will burn in hell for all eternity.”

_“This sounds serious,” said Andy._

“Remember the lovely Lucille Negan, our mega-fan from this afternoon? I want to start a donation account for Lucille, our hometown fan who is in home hospice with stage four breast cancer. This will be the first, and every season will can choose a fan—or fans—who needs some celebrity name recognition to help them out. Are you guys in?”

_“Hell yeah! Tag me!” cried Dana._

_“Me too!” came Laura’s voice._

_“Oh, I’m totally in, dude!” yelled Connor._

_“I don’t have much of a social media presence as you know,” Andy explained, “but please hashbrown me all you like!”_

There were snorts of laughter on both ends of the call as Dana explained to Andy the difference between a hashtag, found online, and a hashbrown, found readily at the local Waffle House. “Thanks, guys! You’re the best!” exclaimed Paul.

_“Hey, it’s a great idea, Paul!” Laura added. “Let’s put our heads together on set sometime tomorrow and make this as big as possible. We can get lots of other cast and crew involved, but don’t wait on this, go ahead and set it up right now!”_

“Will do! Night everyone!” Paul called.

_“Cool! You guys go have amazing sex!” Connor yelled._

“Don’t worry, Connor! I got this, man!” Daryl yelled back, smiling at the resulting hoots and hollering coming from Paul’s buddies. 

_“I know you do, Daryl! We’ll see you in make-up, Paul,” Connor laughed. “Gotta cover up all your hickeys, dude!”_

“Night! Love you guys!” They yelled their goodbyes back through the receiver and the call ended. 

Paul’s fingers flew across the screen nearly the rest of the ride home. “There! Hashtag Connor Reedus, hashtag Andy Kennedy, hashtag Laura Cowan, hashtag Dana Greer, hashtag Death Ascendant, hashtag DA Fan, hashtag Mick DA, hashtag Davy DA, hashtag Peggy DA, hastag Michelle DA, hashtag DA Family, hashtag FU Cancer. Boom! Done!”

“Is that a donation account?” Daryl asked. “I don’t want Coach thinking were overstepping.”

“I may be, but he can just tell me to go fuck myself,” Paul said and added, “Although personally, I’d rather have _you_ fuck me. Meanwhile, he can put whatever comes in to use, making her last days happy, comfortable, and manageable. Or, he can donate it to the charity of his choice. Either way, I have a little fame. Let’s put it to some good use.” 

Daryl pulled Paul’s hand up and kissed his knuckles. “You’re the best.”

“Back at cha, handsome!”

“How many followers you got?” asked Daryl. He himself was on Facebook but nothing else.

“Just over two on Facebook. Nearly six on Instagram, though. Under three on Twitter,” Paul replied.

“Two thousand? Wow!” Daryl said. Glancing over, he noticed Paul’s “Oh, that’s so cute” smile. Daryl’s eyes went wide. “Two _million_? Holy shit!” 

“Connor’s got more than three times that, which is why I tagged him,” Paul said. “All of the cast really liked Lucille and Coach.”

They drove back to Daryl’s house, got out, and went inside. After splitting a piece of the chocolate pie Ms Annette had made for them, Daryl let Paul draw him back to the bedroom, undress him, and lay him face down, stretched diagonally across the bed. Paul shed his clothing and eased his way onto the bed, his knees straddling Daryl's hips, his sex heavy, bouncing against the small of Daryl’s back, and already on its way to engorged. Slowly, lovingly, Paul leaned down and ran his strong hands and fingers along Daryl’s back. He pulled, rubbed, squeezed, kissed, and excited the scarred skin, making goose flesh appear where Daryl had once thought it barren. 

“You want to talk about Rick?”

“We’re all good,” Daryl said, his voice slow and breathy under the pressure of Paul’s touch. “He apologized. Said I was right, if you can believe it. He don’t usually admit that kinda thing. Recognized that he fucked up by only looking at how things affected me, and he hadn’t given you a fair shot. He wants to get to know you better; thinks you’re pretty special what with the way you handled Carl and his friends.”

“That’s nice of him to say,” Paul whispered. “I like Rick too. He thinks the world of you.”

“Hmm,” Daryl smirked back. “Not sure if I want you two singing the same tune.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll always be on your side,” Paul assured, his voice sexy and quiet, all warm breath and wet kisses at the back of Daryl’s neck.

Paul’s phone pinged. Daryl picked it up from the night stand and looked. “Just leave it,” Paul whispered.

Daryl looked and said, “It’s your donation account. Holy fuck, baby!” The brawny man leaned up on his elbows and handed the phone over. “It’s over a hundred and eighty thousand! You just put this thing up less than an hour ago!”

Paul smiled softly, leaned over to set the phone back on the nightstand, and slowly, sensuously moved back into his position straddling his gorgeous mechanic. Daryl lay back down and soaked in his awesome lover’s ministrations.

“You’re beautiful,” Daryl stated softly. “You do so much to make things better for other people. It may seem like it’s a little thing to you, just putting out a few words on Twitter or Facebook, but it makes a huge difference. Mmm, that feels so fucking good, baby.”

“You do the same thing, you know?” his gorgeous actor said softly. “You make connections with people that are real and loving. Picking up Ms Lucille and Coach, writing off his bill, getting her an awesome make-over—she just lit up like a Christmas tree! Eric, Jared, and Jessie may have done the work, but you made that happen. Now, she and Coach can enjoy some of the time they have together.”

“And you, you’re gonna keep on helping people like her,” Daryl said. “Seeing you do things like that makes me love you even more, you know?” he asked. “So bad it hurts in a good way.”

“I know exactly what you mean, baby. I think that’s another reason we fit well together,” Paul agreed. “And I love you more than anything in life.”

 ** _“Never been this happy—“_** There was no denying their connection, the sensation leaving their heads spinning like the corkscrew spiral. 

Paul rubbed at the nape of Daryl’s neck and ran his fingers into the back of his well-built lover’s scalp. “Do you feel better now?” he asked softly.

“Not quite yet,” he said. Daryl reached to the nightstand, retrieved the lube, and handed it back to Paul. Daryl was reaching back and rubbing Paul’s left knee with one hand, and stroking his hot-as-fuck man’s very large and leaking erection with the other and getting a moan of pleasure for his efforts. “I need you to come hard and deep inside me first.” Paul leaned back in and tenderly kissed his way down from Daryl’s lips to his prize, beginning a different form of healing, and each of them professing his undying love and adoration. 

An hour later, Daryl came forcefully right before Paul released inside him. Their lips and tongues sought out and aported desperately with each other, and Daryl’s fingers were interlaced with Paul’s, holding on for dear life as they rode their climax down together, both feeling his scars lessen and their love deepen.


	8. Butterfly Inversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are traveling, and this journey takes Daryl on his first steps into a much larger world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some significant smut and fluff. You might see a few FTWD peeps here and there too. Thank you for giving kudos, but I live for comments! They're always inspiring! Thanks, and happy reading! 
> 
> <3 XOXO

“ _In half a mile, exit right to Exit 2: Camp Creek Parkway, then turn right!_ ” the navigator app prompted, “Jane’s” clip, electronic voice guiding them along in the epitome of efficiency to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. Siddiq turned on his blinker and changed lanes to ease his Chevy Equinox into the far right-hand lane. 

Daryl sat in the back seat with Paul, staring out at the signs advertising park-and-fly service lots and law offices that guaranteed the best settlement for your personal injury. The big man’s left leg bounced rapidly as he looked out the window at the overcast sky and the light rain that was falling in patches of varying intensity. His teeth were gnawing gently at the thumbnail of his right hand until he felt the warmth of Paul’s touch on his thigh, instantly alleviating his anxiety. He dropped his hand quickly and looked back at the beautiful, smiling man with the fantastic eyes, the one who was all his, the man who was taking Daryl on his first trip out of his home state. 

“This is gonna be so awesome!” Paul said, sliding his hand to Daryl's and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Nah,” Daryl said, shaking his head slightly. “You're the one who’d made all this happen.” Daryl squeezed his beautiful actor's hand and leaned in closer, his nose and lips delicately brushing Paul's. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Paul whispered as they closed their eyes and dissolved the gap into a series of soft, delicate kisses.

“Fucker!” cried Siddiq. They felt the vehicle brake hard and turned their heads forward to see what was happening on the road ahead. An aggressive shuttle bus had apparently found it necessary to cut them off. “Sorry, guys,” Siddiq managed.

“No problem. You're fine,” Paul assured his assistant as he checked the time on the vehicle's console clock. “We've still got plenty of time, and I’d rather we get there safe than at break-neck speed.”

“More worried about killing the magic back there,” Siddiq said, wiggling his eyebrows at the two men in the rearview mirror. “You guys going to go for the mile-high club?”

“Ha!” Paul barked. “You know how filthy those airplane bathrooms are? Speaking of which, I don't even think you can call it a bathroom. Maybe lavatory? Regardless, no. I don't think so.”

“Just get some hand sanitizer, dude!” jested Siddiq. 

“Because _that_ would be romantic!” laughed Paul.

Siddiq followed the signs for Departures and drove up the ramp to the massive South Terminal. Carefully, he worked the SUV over to the drop-off lane, put the car in park, and hopped out to get the couple's bags and see them to the helpful valet who stood waiting with a luggage cart and a white, cardstock sign with bold, black lettering that read: “Dixon.” Siddiq helped to sort the bags accordingly.

“You guys got everything?”

“Phones and wallets?” Paul asked, holding his up to confirm. Daryl held up his, nodding and smiling back. “Then we're all set. I checked us in online while we were on the Interstate.” He reached over, hugged his assistant, and exchanged a kiss on the cheek with Siddiq. “Thanks for helping us get this ready.”

“No problem,” answered Siddiq as he turned and repeated the exchange with the well-built mechanic. “You guys have a good time, and I'll see you when you get back! Take care!” Siddiq waved as he stepped back around to move the rental SUV away from the drop-off lanes and back onto the Interstate. 

Daryl had been to the world's busiest airport several times before, but each time was nearly overwhelming with extreme traffic and throngs of travelers from all over the globe. This time was even more nerve-wracking as it involved Daryl personally engaging in the entire travel process.

_Correction—this is an adventure with my man._

Daryl inhaled through his nose, smelling the traffic fumes mingling with the scents of food from the restaurants within. The handsome hunter stepped over, placed a hand at the small of Paul's back just where his perfect ass began, and ushered him along, following the valet out of the light drizzle that was again starting to fall harder. Once they stepped in, he took off his black and gray _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_ cap, shook off a few raindrops, and pushed his jet-black, Ray-Ban Wayfarer shades up on top of his head.

Heads turned—some full of admiration, others eaten by envy, more still experiencing lust—as the most attractive pair of men followed along behind a Delta Airlines valet and were led to the private agent with the cheerful smile who was waiting at the far end of the long check-in counter that was cordoned off by a thick, velvet-covered cable of deep crimson. The agent scanned the QR codes on each of their phones and checked their licenses before greeting them as VIP customers and providing them with directions to the Sky Club lounge. Their bags were immediately checked in between the agent and the valet. Daryl caught the movement to their left and tensed, preparing to use himself as a buffer between the camera-wielding on-rusher and his beautiful actor.

“Hi, Paul?” The young man with the running video camera and the microphone didn't wait for a polite acknowledgment before barreling on. “Adam, from _Death Knell Online_! Do you have just a moment to answer a couple of our followers' questions?” Daryl's glower instantly caught the man's eye causing him to pale, splutter, and freeze dead in his tracks. 

Daryl stepped up into the pushy reporter's personal space, his voice low and threatening. “Do I have your attention?” The man gulped audibly. If he hadn't been trying to protect Paul, Daryl might have laughed in the wiry man's face. As it was, he kept his Dixon death-glare on full blast and his voice a raspy portent that bespoke of imminent bodily harm. “You want to back the fuck off. Right. _Now_.”

“Oh fuck!” gasped Adam, now face-to-face with the most terrifying man he'd ever encountered. His bottom lip literally began to quake with fear, and he shut his eyes.

Daryl saw the man's reaction at the same time that he felt Paul's hand on his back and knew he'd overreacted. “Sorry, man. Adam, right?” The man has nearly gone green, but he scrunched his face and squinted his eyes. Daryl held out a giant hand, and softened his face, now a flushed mixture of embarrassment where it had just been anger. “We've had some over enthusiastic tabloid jockeys of late.”

“Oh,” was all Adam could manage for about ten seconds before he shoved the mic under his arm to hold it and reached out to shake Daryl's hand, a relieved smile breaking through his features like the sun through the dark clouds just outside the terminal. “I’m really sorry. I didn't mean to be so pushy. I just—I didn't expect to see _you_ ,” the reporter explained, trying to make sure his words got to Paul and not the scary-as-fuck bodyguard with whom he was traveling. 

Paul nodded, gave a small, and replied, “Thanks, Adam.” He remained silent and allowed his gorgeous redneck to handle the situation. Adam smiled sheepishly. 

“Okay, look. Tell you what,” Daryl said. “You've apologized. So now you get a do-over.” Daryl glanced over his shoulder to Paul who was smiling back. “That okay by you?”

“That sounds about right,” Paul answered, rubbing Daryl's right shoulder blade. 

Adam restarted his camera and got out his microphone again. “Hi, guys! Adam here from _Death Knell Online Magazine_ , your source for all things zombi-fied! By the greatest stroke of luck, I have happened to spot our newest fan favorite, Paul Rovia, who we've learned has already joined the cast of _Death Ascendant_ , now in production here in Atlanta.” The young, bleach-blonde reporter focused his shot on Paul, who smiled and flashed a peace sign to the camera. 

“Hi, Adam! Fancy meeting you here!” Paul said. Daryl caught himself smiling at his beautiful man, enthralled as he watched in sheer amazement as Paul turned the charm up to eleven.

“So, Paul, how soon can viewers expect to see you on the screen?” Adam asked.

“Hopefully not too long,” Paul answered. A few people were staring, realizing that someone famous was being interviewed. It didn't take long before people were recognizing Paul.

“So which cast members are you having the most fun with on set?” Adam asked.

Paul shook his head slightly and said, “I wish I could tell you because we're really having a blast and working extra hard on some awesome things. Unfortunately, if I tell you who, it may reveal who's alive, and far be it from me to spoil the surprise before my character even makes it into the show.”

Daryl smirked silently as he watched how deftly Paul avoided the trap.

“What is Merlin's big reveal?” asked Adam, still fishing for spoilers.

“I don't want to ruin it for all the people who've put so much into this show,” Paul said diplomatically. “The cast and crew are beyond amazing, but the fans I've met are some of the most wonderful people in the whole wide world. I can tell you that fans of the comics will be very happy and excited to see some of the more iconic scenes brought to life this season as only Craig Nicoletti and the cast can do.”

“We know that Merlin is gay in the comics. Can you tell us if that is going to hold true for the show?” inquired Andy slyly.

Without missing a beat, Paul responded, saying, “Hmm, that’s a really good question! I’m betting your followers have some strong opinions. What do the fans think?”

Adam realized he'd been fooled again, so he answered honestly. “I genuinely think a lot of people would be disappointed if the writers didn't stay true to this aspect of the character. I know I really would be.”

“Well, Adam, because you've been so nice, I don't mind telling you that the studio, the executives, the creator, the showrunner, the writers, and the cast are very happy and totally unapologetic about presenting Merlin as a gay character. This entire show is so incredibly inclusive. It's a huge privilege to get to work on such a project that also happens to be so much fun each and every day.”

“Yay! That’s great to know!” Adam exclaimed and edged, “Any predictions for some romance coming up?” 

“For whom?” Paul countered. 

“Oh, c'mon, Paul! Don't leave our followers hanging,” Adam begged sweetly. “Is Merlin gonna be lucky in love?”

“Everyone will have to wait and see,” Paul replied. “There's so much happening with all of the characters right now. Who's got time for romance?” Paul's smile and infectious laugh caught Adam perfectly as the reporter noticed he was having to move along slightly with the pair of gorgeous men. In his subtle way, Paul was hinting that the interview time was quickly running out.

“Well, Paul Rovia, thanks for taking a moment to share this news with us! We and all of our followers just love you and our work so much, and we look forward to seeing you this season on _Death Ascendant_ , returning next month on AMC! For _Death Knell_ , this is Adam in Atlanta! Bye, Paul!”

“Thanks, Adam! Bye for now!” Paul said, reaching over to shake the man's hand and give him a hug before waving and turning from the camera to walk along with Daryl into the main security checkpoint. 

Within five minutes the pair had cleared security, reclaimed their accessories, and put their shoes back on. After that, they made their way to the transit line and hopped the train to Concourse C. Daryl was stopping to check out the map of the airport just to be sure of exactly where the fuck they were. Paul smiled and kissed his cheek. Daryl blinked back and just shook his head, grinning like the village idiot. This was so surreal. 

“This way,” directed Paul, pointing to a sign for the Sky Club lounge. 

An attendant scanned the QR codes on their phones and ushered them in. Inside was a nice, quiet waiting area with a sign pointing to sleeping areas, apparently for extended layover flights. Snacks, drinks, and comfort amenities were offered by another pair of attendants. Paul and Daryl took the chance to refresh themselves and relax with a beer. In about thirty minutes, the attendant directed the gentlemen to follow him out of the lounge. From there, he escorted them to gate C-26, Flight 1322 Nonstop for Los Angeles, which was boarding first class passengers.

They walked forward and presented their phones once more, allowing them to be scanned by yet another ticket agent. Daryl followed Paul through a door and down a funny smelling hallway with a slight decline. At the end was an accordion seal where the tunnel met the plane's front exit. An elegant woman with a dark brown complexion and deep brown eyes welcomed the pair, got them seated in the second row, starboard seats, took their drink and menu orders, and brought Daryl an adorable wings pin in honor of his first flight. He pinned the wings on his cap, got a glorious smile of genuine adoration from his lover, and leaned over to kiss him sweetly. 

Daryl peeked out the window at the ground crews, scuttling around with luggage cars, driving tug cars and fuel tanks around and around, and waving light wands to direct planes to and fro. The flight attendant gave them two waters and some packages of trail mix, and Paul shifted them so that he was resting against Daryl's broad, strong chest. 

“Are you excited, baby?” whispered Paul, the smile on his perfect, pink lips wiping away every last bit of Daryl's trepidation. 

“Mmhmm,” answered his god-of-a-man., leaning over and kissing Paul's head and smelling the awesome shampoo Paul used just because he knew it turned him on. “God _damn_ , you smell so fucking good.”

Paul could feel Daryl’s knee start to bounce again. “Oh, baby. You can’t be afraid of flying,” he whispered, catching a weird look back from his handsome mechanic.

“Well, I don’t really know,” Daryl huffed, “seeing as I ain’t never done it before.”

“My beautiful darling, you are a Dixon,” Paul said. “Ain’t nothing can take down a Dixon.”

“Who the hell said that shit? Merle?” Daryl huffed a hearty laugh as he watched the chuckle erupt from his perfect partner. He took Paul’s hand and looked him in those wondrous eyes, feeling the apprehension melt away. “Reckon I got you to get me through it.” Paul smiled back, leaned in, and kissed the absolute fuck out of his man. Daryl blushed a bit when the smiling flight attendant who’d apparently witnessed the kiss, turned away and fanned herself.

Passengers heading for economy and coach classes were now boarding. A few of them passed and took excited notice, recognizing “that guy who played Jesus on that meth-making show!” Paul’s Instagram feed became really interesting and he took a few selfies and videos of himself and his deliriously handsome hunter. Daryl's arm reached over to pull him close. The plane's systems began to whine and buzz, and air began to hiss through the adjustable, directed vents above their heads. Daryl reached up and close theirs off. 

When everyone was on board and he caught the flight attendant’s eye, Paul asked for a blanket and two pillows. Once they got them, Paul propped one between Daryl’s head and the bulkhead, wedged another under his on side, and leaned over onto Daryl’s chest and shoulder as he covered them both in the thin, royal blue blanket. Daryl lowered his head down and whispered into his gorgeous actor’s ear, motioning his chin toward the lavatory. “So, you say it's too filthy in yonder to try for the ‘Mile High' club, eh?”

Paul cracked a sneer and answered, “I’m afraid so.” Daryl nearly gasped when he felt his lover's hand rub on his crotch and squeeze slightly, his lascivious action hidden by the blanket. He removed his hand, causing Daryl to whimper a tiny sound and leaned in. “But, when we get to our hotel,” he said, voice becoming sultry and very quiet, “you get to make me _your complete and utter plaything_.”

Daryl shifted his hips in the seat, his jeans now getting very tight. Paul touched the screen on the display built into the seat in front of them, looking for a movie or TV selection. Daryl’s one-and-only love broke out smiling when the brawny hunter put in to watch his boyfriend on a few of his best episodes of _Heisenberg Theory_. They pulled up the menu and ordered their viewing selection, watching as the first few ads rolled for other available shows.

“You know, I almost accepted a role for a season on Spartacus as a gladiator?” Paul mused as an ad for the show played. “I wish I had. That year was tough with two pilots that had awesome scripts but didn’t test well.”

“Never seen it,” Daryl said. “Jared and Alden said it was super bloody with a lot of sex and nudity.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t bother me,” Paul said. “I’ve been naked on stage before. Did _Equus_ and _Curse of the Starving Class_ for eight months each when I first started out.” He huffed a laugh. “My family came out to see it, including my siblings. Beth and Shawn were ten and twelve at the time. Maggie hadn’t even met Glenn. But you can bet, Mama got pictures of my dick! I think they’re in an album somewhere at the farm.” Paul burst out laughing with his boyfriend.

The flooring vibrated as the plane began to roar with life. Daryl was less thrilled when the program they were just about to watch paused and was replaced by a safety video, complete with a live demonstration on the features of the Boeing 767 aircraft, how to fasten a seatbelt, and the fact that he couldn’t light up for the next three and a half hours. 

Paul sat up. “Baby, I haven’t seen you smoke all morning. Are you trying to quit?”

Daryl nodded. “Ain’t never had no reason before.” He squeezed Paul’s hand and looked up, locking his stormy blue eyes with Paul’s icy-blue orbs. “Now I do.”

Paul’s eyes grew wet. “Aww, baby! No wonder you’re so agitated.” He pulled Daryl’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “You know I’m not asking you to do that.” The broad-shouldered mechanic just nodded, the light catching the cute silver wings on his cap.

“I want to,” Daryl said quietly, still looking at Paul. “’Cause I love you, and I wanna be around a while longer with you.”

Paul smiled back and nodded. “Okay. Well, don’t feel that you have to go all cold turkey with it,” Paul advised. “Don’t want you stressing out, because I love you too, Daryl.”

Daryl buckled his seatbelt, then leaned over and kissed Paul again while reaching down under the blanket and around his gorgeous man’s slim hips to find the ends of Paul’s seatbelt and snap them together. He never broke their lips apart until after Paul groaned quietly at the package check Daryl gave him under the blue material. They broke when they felt the plane backing away from the gate. Paul adjusted the pillow and pulled Daryl over to him to let him watch out the window as the plane turned back and came to a slight stop before moving forward to taxi out to the runways.

In a few minutes, Daryl was leaning up close to the window again watching in rapt fascination as the plane’s engines revved and propelled the plane forward, the terminal, concourse gates, and other fixtures starting to fly faster and faster past his view. Suddenly, the plane tilted, and he felt as if he was moving downward. He knew he was rising, because he could see it. It was definitely differently. In Daryl’s mind, it was akin to the movement sensation he got when he watched the tide flow back out from the shoreline around his feet.

In less than thirty seconds, the view of the window was obscured by white mist and clouds. The plane shook a bit. Paul squeezed his hand, and Daryl looked back to find him smiling, conveying comfort. The gorgeous hunter took off his cap and sunglasses and leaned back again on Paul’s side, happy and content. The program resumed on the screen, and they put in their earphones to listen together. 

Daryl watched as Paul stepped into the scene, a totally different person, a dark character as real and terrifying as any Daryl had ever met in his and Merle’s misspent years. Jesus was smart, funny, bitchy, sexy, sad, mysterious, and impossibly ruthless. When the second episode ended, Daryl shifted to look over at his incredibly talented actor. Paul smiled and licked his lips, looking back into Daryl’s eyes.

 ** _“How am I this lucky?”_** Their souls slung up and around, delighted and screaming for joy; the heady mix of the duo’s racing heartbeats and the tender, burning kiss sealing their spirits in union.

“Ahem! Your wraps, gentlemen,” said the pleasant flight attendant, carrying their lunch trays. 

Paul kissed the tip of Daryl’s nose before he turned and paused the playback on the screen. Turning their attention to the attendant, they opened their tray tables and allowed her to pass along their lunch orders.

A couple of hours later, they were among the very first people to step off the plane and into Terminal 2 at Los Angeles International Airport. After dashing to the men’s room and following the crowds, Daryl felt like one of _The Jetsons_ for a moment when he stepped onto the moving walkway right behind Paul. When he and Paul reached the carousel in baggage claim, another valet was there, waiting patiently with a sign that had the Dixon surname. He also had a luggage dolly. When Paul got closer, he told them that the “limo was waiting.” Daryl looked over at Paul who just smiled, tipped, and thanked the valet. Daryl thought they really didn’t have enough luggage to necessitate the dolly, but he figured the guy must be getting paid, so he remained quiet and stood behind his ultra-cute boyfriend, moaning whenever Paul would “accidentally” rub that delectable ass against his crotch. A guy across from them started watching them a little closer, apparently enjoying what he saw. Paul toned it down and swore beneath his breath. Daryl chuckled and kissed the back of his head. 

“Gan-Gan! That big man kissed the pretty man’s head!” said the observant three year-old, squirming restlessly in her grandmother’s arms. Apparently she’d also learned to whisper in a saw mill.

“Sorry,” said the lady, smiling back. 

“It’s true! I did,” Daryl said, doing it again and making the little girl and Paul chuckle. They waved at the little girl who reminded Daryl of Judith. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Daryl said into Paul’s hair as he kissed it again. This time, he pushed his hips forward slightly to press up against that ass. The little girl started to say something else, but her grandmother had set her down, rummaged into her travel bag, and handed her a rice cereal treat.

The carousel finally came to life and their bags eventually emerged. Once their things were retrieved and carted outside, the driver of a shiny black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows stepped out and opened the back door for the men while the valet placed the bags in the cargo hold. Paul and Daryl got inside, and the driver closed the door just as a man and woman came running up with a camera and mic trying to ask Paul who he was dating now.

“Holy shit!” Paul laughed. “Dodged a bullet there!”

Daryl just smiled back. “That little shit, Adam, must’ve called some fellow vultures over here. Can’t outrun the goddamn phone,” Daryl groused jokingly. 

“No,” Paul laughed. “Those vampires are from _TMZ_!” He made a cross with his fingers, drawing another laugh from Daryl. “Haul ass, dude!”

The driver edged into the crowded streets, even more clogged with traffic than the airport lanes back in Atlanta. Daryl hadn’t thought that was humanly possible until now.

“Maybe we should’ve rented bikes,” he joked. On second thought, he figured it would be really cool to drive along the coast out here.

They made their way to I-105, and then to I-110 North to Highway 101. Daryl was again absorbed in the view. Everything was flat until they reached the city proper. Skyscrapers jutted up to break into the vista. Some of the buildings seemed familiar to Daryl. He supposed some of them must have been in the movies. In forty-five minutes, they were pulling into the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. Daryl felt Paul’s comforting hand on his knee and his body slide up against his side. Daryl turned back to throw his powerful arm around Paul and pull his beautiful actor closer. 

“We’re here,” Paul whispered. “We don’t have to be anywhere else until tomorrow at noon, and then at 5:00. We have time to sightsee and explore Hollywood if you like.” Daryl grinned wide and nodded, child-like excitement shining in his eyes.

“But first,” Paul kissed up his neck, just under his left ear. “I need you to get me up in that room, get your huge-ass fucking cock inside me, and _fuck me like you own me_.” Daryl’s expression changed to a leer that was far from the innocent look of a moment before. His nostrils flared and he licked at his bottom lip. 

“When we hit the town later today,” Paul continued, his breathy voice a crucible, “I want you totally relaxed. Damn, I should have followed my instincts and given you some hot-as-fuck head before we left the house this morning. If your legs are gonna shake, I want to be the reason. Sorry, baby.”

Daryl’s exhale was low sound, almost guttural in nature, definitely sex-laden. “You ‘bout to make up for it,” he teased. He was still kissing the fuck out of Paul when the hotel valet opened the door. Daryl nearly dragged his hot-as-fuck boyfriend out of the SUV by the shirt. As it was, they went inside, arms around each other’s waists as the doors opened for them. 

Paul checked them in, gave one of the key cards to his gorgeous mechanic, and wasted no time getting the two of them and the bags up to the room, not waiting on the bellman. The twelfth floor suite was enormous. With multiple rooms and two separate bathrooms, it was decorated in a stylish mix of cream, white, and light gray colors with dark hardwood floors covered by elegant area carpets. 

Paul had started to ask Daryl a question, but the cute actor found himself picked up in a bridal carry and rushed into the bedroom. Daryl tossed a laughing Paul onto the bed and began snatching his man’s clothes off. For the next half hour, Daryl kissed the man he loved, telling—and showing—his gorgeous actor just how beautiful he was and how much he loved him. Paul kissed him back and begged for more. And so it began.

“Lube is in your bag, front zipper compartment,” Paul groaned.

“You best believe I know where it is,” Daryl growled, yanking off Paul’s shoes and socks. 

Paul giggled and squirmed as Daryl fell upon him and kissed and nipped his way down his chin to his neck and beyond. He found Paul’s right nipple and chose it as his first victim, biting harder and sucking to soothe it after. He made his way to his favorite spot under Paul’s navel and nuzzled it. 

“Oh my god!” Paul gasped, his mouth falling open and his heavenly eyes locked on Daryl’s as he watched his strapping lover unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans, unzip them, and pull them down using only his mouth and teeth. It happened a whole lot faster than Paul could have imagined. Daryl kissed and licked down and back up Paul’s inner thighs, finding a spot just under Paul’s boxer briefs to suck and bite, his second victim. Pau’s thighs came together reflexively. 

Daryl looked back up and found Paul panting, his head thrown back. Daryl slid his hands up to the waistband of Paul’s underwear and pulled them down and off. When Paul looked down, Daryl took his beautiful actor’s cock at the base, and still looking into his lover’s wondrous eyes, Daryl licked a swath up the underside of the magnificent phallus. When he reached the now exposed head of Paul’s cock, he took it into his hot, wet mouth and let his tongue memorize every detail. 

Paul exhaled a shuddering breath. His teeth were clinched, and his brow was shining with the first sheen of sweat. “Daryl,” Paul muttered, unable to get much more out at the moment. Daryl swallowed his length down while spreading Paul’s knees wide. He started slow at first, easing down until his nose was touching the perfectly trimmed hair at the base of Paul’s cock and doing his best not to gag. With all the practice of late, he’d gotten very good at it. He would also use his goatee to tickle at Paul’s balls, and ran a thumb along the perineum. He made Paul suffer through this for a good long while before picking up the pace on the large, throbbing cock.

When Daryl began to suck and bob his head, going frequently to the base the way Paul would do to him, Paul knew he wasn’t going last much longer. “Daryl, if you—if you keep going…” Every time he tried to get Daryl to let him up, Daryl would break off, shake his head and tell him he needed this. Then, he would be back on Paul like he was water in the desert.

He reached up and took Paul’s right nipple in hand and twisted it while deep-throating the magnificent cock. He could taste Paul’s pre-come, sweet and perfect. “Daryl, I love you—I—love you so goddamn much! I’m just yours—just yours!” Paul felt the tension fall in his abdomen. His back arched, and he grabbed fistfuls of Daryl’s hair, looking down at his beautiful man. Daryl was furiously working his cock to make him come. His efforts paid off. Paul cried out and began to release a powerful volley in Daryl’s sweet mouth. 

Paul had no sooner ridden down his orgasm when he found himself flipped over and face down on the bed. He looked over his shoulder as he watched Daryl hooking those massive arms under his hips and back around to the globes of his ass, strong hands gripping and spreading them wide. Paul thought Daryl hadn’t been going to take him up on his earlier request. Realization hit that he was getting just that. “Oh _fuck_ yes!” he told Daryl as his powerful hunter dove face-first into his sweet ass, tonguing his entrance mercilessly. Paul was powerless to do anything other than moan obscenely, push himself back against Daryl’s loving assault, and enjoy the ride. 

Daryl continued eating his lover’s ass for dear life. When he reached under and found Paul hard and begging again, the strapping redneck rose up, took off into the other room, retrieved the lube, all the while losing clothing until he walked back in and got onto the bed, straddling Paul’s chest. Paul grinned and chuckled as he noted that his hot-ass boyfriend was now wearing his _Dixon Bros_ cap on backwards. Daryl’s long, thick sex was very excited, hard as steel, his foreskin fully retracted. With one arm on the headboard, and the other behind Paul’s head, fingers in the long, shiny hair, Daryl thrust his engorged, leaking erection into Paul’s ready and waiting mouth. Paul reached up to squeeze Daryl’s ass and pull him harder and faster. 

“You gonna fucking come for me?” Daryl demanded. Paul moaned his best affirmation, not wanting to stop sucking on his lover’s incredible member.

Daryl let him moan and slather on his huge cock until his sexy actor couldn’t stand it any longer. He broke away, lubed himself and Paul, and got back on the bed, grabbing Paul’s legs and pulling them up onto his massive shoulders. Slowly, steadily he leaned in and pressed against Paul’s entrance, the large head of his cock slipping in past the tight ring on muscle. He follow Paul’s moans and nods, pushing further in to sheath himself in the warm, welcoming walls of the most perfect man in the world. Finally he was flush against Paul, and they were both wearing hot, sultry grins. 

Daryl thrust forward slowly and sped up quickly at Paul’s insistence. In a few moments, he was sweating and his heavy balls were slapping against Paul’s tight ass. Daryl put a hand on Paul’s chest, their shared vulgarities pushing each other closer and closer. 

“Oh god! Fuck me, Daryl!”

Daryl turned on the pace until Paul was crying out waves of “Yes! Then, he leaned down, kissing Paul and adjusting his entry so that his thrusts led Paul where he wanted him to be. Paul held Daryl’s face in his hands whispering his love as he spilled over, his come painting their chests and stomachs. Daryl felt Paul tighten on him and joined him in climax, releasing his love deep within his beautiful man. They kissed savagely as they rode down their ecstasy, forcing it to last as long as possible. Leaned in a kissed Paul, giving him life, then added a love bite to his left shoulder as he finished his last few thrusts.

 ** _“You make me so happy.”_**

Paul rolled Daryl over onto his back, careful to keep his hunter’s awesome length inside his tightness, his glorious hair falling down to tickle at his handsome hunter’s face, neck, and chest. They were laughing, crying, smiling like idiots, and kissing each other savagely with their sore, reddened lips. Paul renewed a love mark just above Daryl’s right nipple. They lay in the afterglow with the noon-day sun shining down outside the windows until Daryl slipped himself out, raised them up, put Paul’s hands around his shoulders, and carried him into the most amazing shower.

When they’d cleaned up and dressed, Paul called down to housekeeping and requested bedding service. Paul opened the ride application on his phone, and two minutes later, they were on their way into Hollywood. They stopped at Sunset Blvd and Vine. 

Paul led Daryl along, looking down as the Walk of Fame began. Daryl was a little awed by the pink tiles with brass stars, denoting Hollywood legends in various parts of the entertainment industry.

Paul stopped about halfway up the block and beckoned Daryl over as he knelt down. “Here!” he called. Daryl came over, huffed a laugh, and gave a bright smile at his boyfriend as he saw the name on the star: “Mae West.” They took a selfie and immediately posted it to Paul’s Instagram. Turning west on Hollywood Boulevard, Paul led Daryl hand-in-hand along through the endless crowds of vendors and tourists. He stopped long enough to let Daryl realize they had halted and look at him. Paul loved seeing the look on Daryl’s face when he caught the iconic sight in the background. Back in the distance, behind where Paul had strategically placed himself, was the Hollywood sign, clearly visible on the hillside far across the highway. Daryl just stopped, shook his head and bit his bottom lip for a second, then let the grin break out over his face. He stopped and took a picture of Paul with his phone, then stepped over and took a selfie with his man. They politely stopped a nice couple--who turned out to be tourists from Indiana—and got them to take a picture of them kissing under the Hollywood sign for which the guys happily reciprocated. 

After stopping for a burger and a beer at a sports bar called The Rusty Mullet, Paul took Daryl to the front of _Grauman’s Chinese Theatre_ , where he could see the handprints, footprints, and signatures of some of the most famous people ever to grace the silver screen. Daryl was amazed to find out John Wayne had such tiny feet. He figured his own would fit perfectly into Schwarzenegger’s, if he’d been wearing the cowboy boots Rick had given him for Christmas year before last.

The crowds were starting to build as the afternoon went on. Paul took Daryl onto a side street, and they walked to the end of the block as he summoned a car with his phone app. Two minutes later, Daryl found himself riding along through Beverly Hills and on Rodeo Drive with Paul who had made another quick phone call. They exited the vehicle about half a mile away on North Robertson. Daryl had no clue where Paul was going. The doors of all the stores he had seen so far had little traffic going in and out. The door to the store Paul walked up to was no different. In fact, Daryl heard the auto-lock click, and a pleasant young man opened it for them to enter.

“Hello, Mr Rovia!” he said. “This must be Daryl?” The man offered his hand shook hands with both of them. “My name is Todd, and welcome to _Louboutin_.” Todd ushered them in further. 

Daryl mouthed at Paul: “What the fuck?” 

“Okay,” Paul said, as he turned to face Daryl. He reached up and ran his hands up Daryl’s massive chest and wide shoulders to caress his face and card through his tresses. “Well, as you might recall, part of this trip is a black-tie affair that we are attending. The other part is about me getting to spoil you just a little bit. So, we’re gonna shop and make it fun, because I know you hate shopping and trying on things. So, thank you for letting me do this. Now, we’re gonna buy a few things, and it’s happening, and yes, I can afford it and much, much more, so just relax and enjoy letting me do this for you. I promise we won’t get you anything you hate or that’s not you. Okay?”

 ** _“God, I love you.”_** The ride lurched and left them both light and slightly euphoric.

Daryl looked shy, like he wanted to protest; he had figured they would just rent suits like people did if they were in weddings, but when he saw his man’s loving smile and the lack of worry in those magnificent eyes, he was won over. “A’ight,” he agreed, sighing. “Ready for my make-over.” Paul just grinned and pulled him along. 

Thirty minutes and nearly forty-eight hundred dollars later, Paul had a killer pair of Derby shoes with spikes, and Daryl was the proud owner of a pair of awesome ankle boots and a pair of spikey Oxfords with brilliant bright red soles. They made their way to _Gucci_ , _Hermès_ , _Versace_ , and _Prada_ to rack up quite the bill as well. Daryl loved everything they found, and even the things he had initially been on the fence about turned out to be really awesome. The best part was seeing him step out in something and watching the looks on Paul’s face, ranging from the shaking head and scrunched nose to the gaping mouth and wide eyes to the lustful up and down appraisal that Daryl knew meant that he was planning exactly how he wanted to make his handsome mechanic climax. Paul had paid to have the items tailored—particularly to Daryl’s shoulders and arms—and be shipped to Daryl’s place. Evidently, enough money could do anything. 

They walked from _Gucci_ back along Rodeo and down to the hotel. The Italian restaurant within was well-reviewed, and they had an extravagant meal before heading back up to their suite. Although it was only 7:30, the time difference was starting to catch up. They found the bedding restored and pristine as they made their way into the shower. Daryl slid their bodies together like they had the first time they’d been intimate, kissing deeply while his hands worked their erections up and down until they both released on each other. 

He dried them off and led Paul to the bed. They settled in and flipped on the television only to find themselves totally dead to the world in five minutes. Daryl woke incredibly early, the change of time zones wreaking havoc on their sleep schedules. Paul turned down the temperature of the room, coaxed his beautiful redneck back into bed, and rubbed his tattered back until Daryl was able to fall back to sleep. 

When he woke, it was only 7:47, but it felt as if they had slept for years. He and Paul got dressed and caught a ride over to the Silver Lake area. Paul explained that he had a place over here still, but he was renting it out to a nice young actor by the name of Daniel, who was going to meet them for breakfast. They got out at the corner of Sunset and Santa Monica Blvd and walked southeast along Sunset. Daryl was amazed to see the actual, famous streets he’d always heard tell of from afar. 

_Millie’s Café_ had an open-air set of tables and an internal dining area. A young man with bright green eyes and red, close-cropped hair stood up and waved them over. Paul introduced the two, and they enjoyed an awesome meal while discussing Daniel’s latest audition and the event Paul and Daryl were going to attend. 

“Maybe Madison can find you something on Animal Kingdom,” said Paul. He turned to Daryl. “Madison Clarke is our agent. She’s fantastic!”

“That would be sweet!” Daniel said. “I wouldn’t mind crunching on the gay brother.”

“That’s Jay Cleary. He’s really cool, and a decent surfer,” Paul noted. His phone rang. “Speak of the devil!” He huffed a laugh and answered the phone via speaker. “Hey, Maddie. You’re on the air with me, my boyfriend Daryl, and Daniel.”

“Hi, guys! You all excited for the interview and the event tonight?”

Everyone called back “Yes!”

“That’s what I like to hear! Daniel, I have two auditions you need to do. One’s a feature film, the other is a limited character, but if you get it, you’ll be in Texas on Death Ascendant Eternal, the spinoff, but you need to head over right now. The first is in thirty-seven minutes at Warner Brothers, the second an hour and a half later and in Burbank.”

“Yay!” Daniel cried. “Oh shit! I gotta run!”

“We got the check!” Paul yelled. “Go get ‘em!”

“Nice to see you guys! Madison, wait ‘til to see Daryl! He’s smokin’ like a goddamn chimney! Nice to meet you man! Happy for you guys! Gotta go!” Daniel jumped up, hugged the pair, and waved as he headed off.

“You too man! Good luck or break your ankles or however you say it!” Daryl huffed a laugh, waving goodbye.

“Hey, Paul. I take it everything’s going well in Atlanta,” Madison said. 

“Yes,” Paul answered. “Very well! I can’t thank you enough for helping me find this part, Maddie.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear,” said Madison. “Any problems with the paparazzi? Dante said you had called last month.”

“They jump out at me every now and again,” Paul answered. “They haven’t been nearly as intrusive as they were before.”

There was a pause in the conversation. “Madison? You still there” Paul asked.

“Yes. I was just thinking. Victor wants us to move forward with the defamation suit against Alex, but he’s not going to do it if it might hurt your image,” she said. “My advice is to let sleeping dogs lie. If we stir things up, it could write you out of the job you just got into.”

“I agree,” said Paul. “I don’t even think about that guy anymore.” He locked eyes with the godly hunter before him and smiled. “My personal life is beyond my wildest dreams! Never knew it could be this good. My professional life is awesome. I love what I do, and getting paid a fuck-ton to do it feels pretty sweet.” Daryl winked at him. “I’ll tell Strand to ease up. If Alex or Wes cause any trouble, he’s welcome to come down on them like a ton of bricks. Otherwise, make like Elsa and ‘Let It Go!’ But I do want his help with a charity matter, so I’ll let him know.”

“Okay! Then that’s how it’s going to go,” Madison said. “You guys have a good time! Your stylists will be at the hotel at 4:30. I’m working with AMC to get you scheduled for a couple of talk shows, some con appearances, and you’ll have a night spot with Kimmel.”

“Just let me know!” Paul said.

They said their goodbyes and ended the call. Daryl and Paul leaned over the small table and kissed for the next two minutes, drawing applause and a few jeers from the staff who were obviously joking. 

“Sorry! Not sorry!” Paul cried.

“Yeah,” Daryl shrugged, smiling like an idiot.

**_“We’re totally in love!”_ **

Two Danish tourists asked for autographs and pictures which Paul was happy to oblige. Neither of them could concentrate on too much of the activity around them as their hearts soared on another perfect high.

The interview went over without a hitch, and Daryl loved watching Paul record it and listening to him banter with the hosts. They got back to their hotel around 2:30 and worked out for over an hour. By the time they got back to the rooms and showered, the stylists arrived with two black suits, one Prada for Daryl—explaining why he’d been measured six ways from Sunday the afternoon before—and one Viktor Luna for Paul. When they got in the limo, Daryl had to admit that they looked fucking killer.

He found Paul’s comforting hand back on his knee, stopping its bouncing movement and calming his nerves. The SUV stopped at the end of the red carpet walk of The Palazzo. Paul kissed him. Daryl knew the man was going to speak, and he had asked his permission way back in Georgia before the mechanic ever agreed to the trip.

“You can tell them,” Daryl said shyly. Paul nodded, kissed him again, and put their foreheads together for a moment just before the door opened.

They emerged from the vehicle to a veritable blitzkrieg of flash photography. Paul had warned him of this, and Daryl had followed his lead. The walked slowly together, fingers interlaced, as they made their way down the red carpet. Paul smiled and waved. Photographers cried out to get his attention, asking him to look or turn a certain way. At one point, Daryl walked ahead to let the reporters get a few singular shots of Paul. Paul rejoined him immediately, and they entered the venue. Paul also introduced him to some of the biggest names in the entertainment industry. 

It was so surreal. De Niro, Nicholson, Cher, Streep, Hawn, Fox, Berry, and tons more were there with a message to let teens know, “It Gets Better.” Daryl’s eyes were wet as his perfect partner was introduced by Glenn Close and took to the stage about forty-minutes into the massive dinner event—at which he noticed no one was actually eating, curiously enough. Paul was one of the celebrities who were invited to give a testimony and words of encouragement which would be broadcast over the organization’s web site and social media feeds.

“Thank you, and good evening,” Paul began. “The struggle to find love and acceptance is very real and close for me. I was orphaned at three; I grew up in the system, in a combination of group homes and foster families. I’ve had to defend myself against physical violence, religious dogma, and ignorant bigotry, and there were times I wanted it to end, times I couldn’t see hope, but now, years later, I do. I was lucky enough to have a foster family find me, care for me. My boyfriend—“ Paul’s blinked his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath, his eyes instantly wet. “My boyfriend, Daryl, wasn’t lucky at all. He was verbally and physically brutalized and made to feel that he deserved it and that he’d brought it all upon himself. That. Is. A. Lie. Make no mistake: He’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, he’s the most beautiful soul I’ve ever known, and he makes me happier than I ever could’ve dreamed.” 

Paul held out his hand and nodded. Daryl inhaled a sharp breath, rose from his chair, and straightened his new coat; he could barely see which way to go up the stair case to the stage where his beautiful Paul was waiting. The applause of the standing crowd was thundering almost as loud as the pounding of his heart. 

“Now, we’re here as living proof,” Paul stated. Their kiss lit up the night, and Daryl had lifted Paul off the floor. When they finished, Paul’s mic caught their shared words.

**_“It just keeps getting better and better!”_ **

In a million years, Daryl would never have believed that he’d be at a black-tie event in the middle of Los Angeles, having drinks and conversation at the same table with Cher, Keanu Reeves, and Lady Gaga, much less that he’d be with the most wonderful boyfriend ever to walk the face of the planet. Best of all, they had the pictures and video on their social media to prove it happened. They stayed out at an after party—where the real eating happened—until about 11:30 when they politely departed and headed back to the hotel. Daryl smoked a cigarette out on the sidewalk, then they went inside, undressed and climbed into bed. A little after 4:00 in the morning, Daryl was awake with his head and arm resting on Paul’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He softly nuzzled against Paul’s left pectoral muscle. 

“Hey, baby,” came Paul’s soft voice. “You awake?”

“Mmhmm,” Daryl moaned happily. “That was—I don’t even have the words.” Daryl his fingers in the hair just around Paul’s right nipple and in the middle of his chest. “I have Cher’ and Lady Gaga’s telephone numbers in my fucking phone, man.”

Paul chuckled and ran his hands through Daryl’s hair. “You could get used to wearing three thousand dollar outfits, going to five thousand dollar a plate charity dinners, and partying with the cool kids afterwards, huh?”

“Fuck, yes—wait, _how_ much was the suit?”

“Shhh. A drop in the bucket,” Paul assured him. In a move Daryl had come to enjoy, Paul turned him over on his back, lying on him with their erections pressed together. “You deserve all of it and so much more.” He kissed Daryl softly, their tongues playing lovingly, Paul’s hair pulled over to one side. “Which reminds me… We need to get you a passport.”

Daryl blinked up into Paul’s shining eyes, that playful smile drawing his own lips to mirror them. “We going somewhere besides New York?”

Paul huffed a laugh and kissed him again. “Connor recommended Costa Rica. But I want to show you a few places: London, Pairs, Rome, Tokyo, Melborne, Stockholm, Berlin, Amsterdam. We got a lot of ground to cover.”

An hour later, and after a glorious blowjob from Paul, Daryl was lying back on Paul’s chest as his beloved actor was hammering furiously up into him, crying out and begging for Paul to come inside him. He was not disappointed when the man cried out beneath him, and biting his shoulder, painting his insides. Daryl’s orgasm was spectacular.

After they showered and packed, the pair took the limo service back to the airport. Daryl grabbed them a couple of huge coffees while they waited in the Delta Sky Club. The plane trip to New York was long and had a bit of rough air. Neither of the boys had appreciated it much, but they found an in-flight nature show to pass the time when they weren’t napping. 

Once they arrived at the airport, they collected their bags and took a taxi directly to the radio show where Paul had another promo interview, this time with Elanna Masters from the show. This station was recording video too for their Twitter feed and YouTube channel. When they finished, the three of them checked into their hotel near Time Square and dashed out to enter the teaming throng. Paul and Elanna took Daryl to a central ticket box office right in the middle of where 7th Ave and Broadway crossed. They came back with three tickets to "Wicked" for that evening. Having watched "The Wizard of Oz" with Sophia earlier that summer, Daryl wasn’t sure what was so different about the story. When they got out that night, he knew differently. 

By the next evening, after Siddiq dropped them off at Daryl’s house and the delivery guy had dropped off the _Short Round_ pizza, Daryl and Paul lay again out back in the big hammock with their pizza bones and two beers. The night was cooling now that the September sun had set. Heat lightning played silently in the clouds off to the west.

“Thank you,” Paul whispered.

“What for?” 

“For everything you do,” Paul answered. “I know this life can be a lot. I don’t want it to ever be overwhelming.”

“Hey,” Daryl reached down, put a comforting hand under his lover’s chin, and lifted his head to face him. “It’s all good here. I like thrill rides.” Daryl swing them a little in the hammock. “Wanna go inside and ride another kinda ride?” He chuckled, but was thankful as all fuck that they were still so horned up over each other. He hoped it would never go away. 

“We have one right here,” Paul whispered, swaying in the hammock and playing with the buttons on Daryl’s shirt. “You don’t have really close neighbors. And I have really good balance…”

Daryl looked skeptical. Paul proved it.


	9. Headchopper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl figures out he is not invincible, but he's got the right person he can always count on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay and the reduced length, but it seemed the right place to break the story. Also, this new degree program is no joke and may delay some posts. However, your comments on this and all of my other stories are what keeps me focused and motivated! Love to hear from you, and happy reading!!!
> 
> XOXO
> 
> Warning: descriptions of symptoms associated with illness.

At 7:09 the following Friday morning, Daryl kissed Paul goodbye at the gym, drove through the bakery to pick up some cinnamon rolls for the shop, and pulled into his parking spot. Merle, T-Dog, Morales, Axel, and Martinz looked up from their respective activities and conversations over by the coffee maker. Daryl walked over, set down the white pasteboard box, and nearly collapsed on the couch with his head thrown back and an indelible, perfectly-satisfied-and-loving-it smile plastered on his face.

“God almighty knows. Would y’all look at that?” Merle said, shaking his head, drawing everyone else’s attention. “Son, can you even walk? You need me to call Doc Carson? Get you some popsicle sticks and gauze tape to make a splint for your pecker?”

“Damn, y’all!” Daryl moaned. “Don’t pick on me and Paul this morning. I can only take so much sexual harassment. And for the record, everything works better than ever! Three times last night, you fucker!” Daryl sighed and tried to hide his smiling face in his hands. “Holy _fuck_ , y’all! I’m such a slut for him.” The guys laughed. “Oh, and Merle? If you’re talking about splints for my dick and Paul’s, you’re gonna need foot-long rulers for each, not no damn popsicle sticks!”

The men’s roar of laughter could be heard all the way out into the employee parking lot as Nabila and Patrick made their way inside. “Yeah, you right! Runs in the family!” Merle said, sniffing loudly and hiking up his pants a bit.

“Well, _damn_ ,” Martinez barked.

“Daryl, man, you’re like this,” teased T-Dog, hooking a finger into the corner of his mouth like a trout on a line. The others fell out laughing. Even Daryl couldn’t resist and voiced his agreement.

When the others headed in to open up the shop bay doors, Merle stayed behind. Daryl caught his brother’s body language and turned to raise his eyebrows expectantly.

“You know,” Merle said. “You’re allowed to take more than one or two days off.”

Daryl looked down at the box, took a paper towel, and picked up a roll, handing it to his big brother. “Yeah, I know,” the mechanic nodded. He picked up another roll for himself, grabbed a clean mug, and poured himself some coffee. “But, it ain’t fair to just leave it all on y’all.”

Merle topped off his coffee mug, nodding. “You know,” the elder Dixon started, “when Carol and I first started up, you gave me plenty of days. You remember what you said to me?”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded, finally looking up to see Merle’s eyes and his half smile.

“What did you say?”

Daryl shrugged. “You want something real with somebody as special as Carol, you gotta go all in.”

“And you were right, baby brother,” Merle confessed. “You told me something that changed my whole world. Now, I know I ain’t been no font of wisdom for you, but I’m gonna tell you right now, son. It’s high time to take your own advice. Paul loves you.” 

Daryl nodded and huffed a laugh. “He better! He dropped about five grand on my ass this weekend.”

Merle’s brows reached for the ceiling, then he pointed toward the center of town. “Goddamn, son! Marry that pretty motherfucker today! Courthouse is that-a-way, boy!”

Daryl barked a laugh and Merle joined in. “Never thought I’d say this, but if things keep going the way they are, that might be a real possibility.”

“Good,” Merle sniffed. “Now, take time and enjoy each other ‘cause someday soon… ” The elder Dixon reached in his pocket and pulled out a midnight blue velvet box. 

Daryl’s eyes grew wide. “You got it?” he exclaimed.

“Yep,” Merle said, opening it and showing off the platinum wedding and engagement band set of princess- and emerald-cut diamonds. “Soon as I got the honeymoon paid for, engagement is happening.”

Daryl smiled up. Merle turned on the Dixon glower. “You know what’s gonna happen if you go and spill the beans to her, right?”

Daryl raised his hands up in surrender. “No worries, man.”

“Good,” said Merle, nodding in finality. “You think you two can come up for air long enough to have dinner with us one night next week? Tell us all about your jet-setting adventures?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Got some things for y’all we picked up in New York City.” 

Merle shook his head. “Damn, _Darylina_! You ain’t gotta go and do all that.”

Daryl stopped and caught Merle’s attention, look at him squarely as he replied. “Yeah, man.” Merle’s joking mood shifted to mirror the serious tone of the younger Dixon. “I really do. You made all this happen, man. I know a lotta other folks were in on it, but I also know they had to get this through you or there wasn’t no show. That day, riding rides at Six Flags? I—“ Daryl turned his head, sniffed, and blinked several times. 

“I get it, son,” Merle. “But, I ain’t looking to be Oprah and Gayle right now.”

“Get to work, asshole!” Daryl teased back.

Daryl, Merle and the crew worked like fiends the rest of the day. Paul brought Daryl a late lunch from _The Mean Bean_ where he’d found Sasha short-handed while Tyreese was out with the flu.

“I like Sasha a lot, and she was in dire straits. I figured since I had the time and the skills, I should pitch in,” he told Daryl, “I think I impressed her with my waiter skills, too!” Paul smiled back across the omelet and cheese grits they were sharing. 

“Good to have something to fall back on in case this acting thing doesn’t work out,” Daryl quipped. 

“Oh, you ass!” Paul laughed, his melodious sound filling the breakroom. 

“Merle wants us to come by for dinner soon,” Daryl said. “That is, if we can keep it in our pants long enough.”

“No promises!” Paul said, his voice a breath of heated assurance as he leaned over the small table to steal a kiss from his handsome mechanic. He checked his phone, saw the time, and made to leave. “My place or yours tonight?”

“Mine,” Daryl answered, rising up and kissing his gorgeous man again. “I’m going over to Coach’s place to check on them, maybe take some groceries by, then I’m gonna cook for you.”

“I can do all that,” Paul said. “I’m off until next Tuesday. Let _me_ cook for _you_. Any requests? What were you thinking of making?”

“Hadn’t even figured on that, yet,” Daryl said, shrugging. “Thought I’d figure it out when I got stuff for Coach and Lucille.”

“How about some good ‘ole southern fare?” Paul asked as he leaned over again to meet his hot-as-fuck redneck’s lips. “We’ve eaten salads and two vegetarian meals this week. I think I need to do something in the kitchen to keep you satisfied.”

A wicked smiled crept over Daryl’s face with a blush. “We ain’t shy about keeping each other satisfied anywhere in my house or yours, including night before last on my kitchen table.”

“You liked that, did you?” sneered Paul. Daryl gave a slow chuckle as he felt his pants get tighter. His beautiful actor leaned over and pressed his lips to Daryl’s left ear. “Well, tonight may involve gravy,” Paul whispered.

Daryl turned to grin at his man as Paul nodded his confirmation, then smiled into the kiss that Paul gave him. From his vantage point, he could see a frazzled Michonne come through the front door carrying a very unhappy Judith on her hip. “Fun never stops at _Dixon Bros Motor Professionals_! Catch you tonight,” Daryl said, kissing Paul one last time before jumping up. “Thanks for lunch, hottie. Just leave this, and I’ll clean it up,” he said to Paul. 

“I got it, boss!” called Patrick, who was picking up after his own lunch at another table. 

“Thanks, man” Daryl replied, then turned back to Paul, kissing him one last time before running out to see what was up with his sister-in-law and niece. Paul thanked Patrick and followed Daryl out. 

Michonne was the most cool, calm, collected person Daryl knew—other than his boyfriend. Today, the woman looked haggard. Judith had a runny nose and was sobbing slightly on her shoulder. She dashed to the restroom with the child and returned after a couple of minutes, wiping Judith’s mouth with a wet-wipe.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asked, reaching out and taking Judith. She sniffled against his neck, and he felt her forehead. She was running a fever. “She’s burning up.”

“I think she’s got the flu bug that’s been going around,” Michonne explained. “Carl came down with it last night. Can’t keep anything down. Taking her to the Family Practice now. They said both Drs Carson are sick with it too. Good thing Dr Subramanian is up and running. I gave her some acetaminophen for kids. Rick is running between the office and home to check on Carl.”

“You need me to take her?” asked Paul. 

“I got it, I think,” said Michonne. “Just needed to drop in long enough so she could run to the restroom. “Lori is getting over this mess too. I love her, she’s my gal-pal, she’s a great mom, but I’m telling you right now: if I get this crap, I’m blaming her.” 

Daryl handed a reluctant Judith back over to Michonne. “Clean everything with bleach, and stay away from it, boys!” she called as she went back out to get Judith situated in her car seat. 

“Poor baby!” Paul said. “I’m gonna go to the grocery store and drop stuff on the list over to Coach and Lucille.” They kissed one last time, and Paul took off. 

By the time Daryl got home, he knew. He did not feel well. This was confirmed when he got out of the truck, smelled the fried chicken that Paul was cooking in his kitchen, and ran straight into his side bathroom to vomit. 

His vision was dark and fuzzy around the edges, and he was sweating like he’d just come back from a run. The next thing he knew, a painfully cold, but not unwelcome, wet washcloth was on his forehead, holding his head over the toilet while the world’s most comforting hand rubbed at his back. 

“Daryl!” came Paul’s voice, seemingly like it was from down a hallway. “Get it all out.”

Once he had—and unfortunately, from both directions—Paul had stripped him down, given him a cool shower, cleaned him up, and put him to bed. The digital thermometer said he had a 103 degree fever. Paul bundled him up as Daryl had the chills. His beautiful man lined a large trash bin and put it beside the bed. Next, he got Daryl to take some anti-nausea medicine and something for the fever. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Daryl apologized, his voice odd from his stuffy nose. “I don’t want you to get this.”

“Don’t worry, hon,” Paul assured, putting a new, cool, wet washcloth on Daryl’s forehead. “If I get it, I get it, and then—well, I guess Siddiq will have to take care of us.” He smiled at Daryl whose huff turned into a horrible cough. “In the meantime, just get some rest. Okay?”

Daryl nodded his head, coughed again, and tried to let himself stop shaking as he warmed up under the covers. 

When his fever finally broke around 11:30 that night, Daryl felt physically drained. His muscles ached and he was still not able to keep much down other than a few sips of water. Paul tried to get him to eat a couple of crackers and drink some cola to help settle his stomach, but he hadn’t felt like it until now.

With Paul’s help, he got out of bed to go to the bathroom while his handsome, loving boyfriend changed the linens and washed the bedding. When Daryl got out, he went to the kitchen to get something to drink. 

He filled a glass with water from the refrigerator and saw several plastic containers full of what he had presumed to be dinner. He closed the appliance door and looked over at the kitchen table, set beautifully for two, with candles and linen napkins. The entire kitchen had been scrubbed from top to bottom and aired out to get rid of the smell of frying from earlier. His jaw tilted and his lips made a line as his eyes grew wet.

_Goddamned arrogant fucker! You knew she was sick, and you picked her up anyway. You knew Paul was coming home to make you an awesome date night dinner, and you chanced getting sick anyway. Way to go, asshole!_

“Hey. You okay?” came Paul’s soft voice. He slipped back in quiet as a cat from the laundry room. “Why are you crying?”

“’Cause I ruined it all,” Daryl said, his face scrunched up. 

“Hey, c’mere.” Paul took him in his arms and rested Daryl’s head down on his shoulder. “That’s not so. Daryl, you’re not invincible. You caught the flu from Judith. For god’s sake, you’d swim through a putrid vat of Ebola-filled sewer water for her or Carl or Rick or Merle.” Daryl looked up and let Paul wipe away his tears. “Or me. And just so you know, while you were out of it, I got Siddiq to drop by, pick up the fried chicken and take some of it for himself and some for Coach and Lucille. So, it didn’t go to waste. Okay?”

Daryl nodded. Paul smoothed the fringe out of his eyes. 

“Now, go get back in bed,” ordered his cute actor. “I have a surprise.”

Daryl nodded and went back to lie down in the freshly made bed. Paul arrived a few minutes later with a tray of small, individually wrapped snacks, some water, and a steaming cup of over-the-counter flu remedy Daryl didn’t even know he’d had.

“Is that still good, or did it expire?”

“Should be fine,” Paul replied. “I got it yesterday.” He shrugged and gave Daryl a small smile. Come to think of it, Daryl didn’t own a digtal thermometer.

“You knew I was gonna get this, didn’t you?” Daryl said. 

Paul narrowed his eyes slyly. “I had a feeling it would be better to be prepared.” He began to undress. 

“You gonna give me a hard-on while I suffer?”

“I can’t help that,” Paul joked and climbed naked into the bed with two books. “So, you have choices: magical fantasy or mystery and suspense?”

“Pick your favorite,” Dayrl said. He drank down the hot liquid as fast as he could and then snuggled up to Paul, laying with his head on his lover’s shoulder. 

“Then here we go!” Paul said. “Oh, fair warning, I do the voices and accents too.”

Daryl huffed a small coughing laugh and felt better for the first time since he got home yesterday afternoon. 

“Chapter One,” Paul said in a crisp, Londoner accent. “’The Boy Who Lived.’”

To their mutual relief, Paul did not get sick, and Daryl truly enjoyed his renditions of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ and _The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo_ over the next couple of days. Daryl’s fever had spiked again the first day, but thanks to Paul’s ministrations, he got it under control and felt much better. He grumbled a bit about Paul calling Carol and Merle. Rick stopped by to bring some sports drinks and lemon-lime soda; he’d been sad to report that even Michonne had not made it through unscathed. Aaron and Eric had been lucky enough to muddle through without catching it. Al reported that Jared was begging to be taken out to the picturesque countryside, made to look at the flowers, and shot quietly in the back of the head. 

 

Late Sunday afternoon, Daryl woke to the quiet hum of the new humidifier near the bedside. He was feeling much better—so good in fact that he got up and brushed his teeth. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, put some of the mentholated ointment under his nostrils, and stepped into the shower to let the steam penetrate his stuffed up sinuses. He coughed a few times to clear out his lungs; fortunately, he didn’t seem to have any major chest congestion. He shampooed and conditioned his hair, scrubbed himself thoroughly with the tingly peppermint soap Paul got for him, and rinsed himself down. He used the shower spray on everything in the bathroom but himself. Then, he put on some underwear and the nice thick, midnight blue bathrobe Paul had bought for him along with some really cool bedroom shoes. They were super-cushiony. That was when the smell hit him and his stomach growled. The redneck realized he hadn’t eaten in over two days, and something smelled absolutely delicious in his house. 

He walked down the short hallway into the combined living room and open kitchen. He and Merle had put in new supports across the ceiling to allow the bearing wall between the rooms to be taken out, making the place very modern and sleek inside. Daryl thought the work Merle did on the cabinets was worth at least forty thousand dollars. And no, the asshole wouldn’t let Daryl pay him a goddamned dime, but then again, Daryl wouldn’t have taken a dime from him and Carol either. _“Family rates,”_ Merle had called it. 

The happy scene in front of him caught the corners of Daryl’s mouth, bringing a sweet smile to life. The most beautiful, most adorable, and verifiably sexiest man on earth was dancing around in Daryl’s kitchen, sliding across the floor in his sock feet as he listened to music through his wireless headphones and cleaned the countertops, oblivious to his handsome hunter’s presence. For the first time since Friday evening, Daryl could smell. The homemade chicken soup was simmering away in the big stainless steel pot on the stove. Steam trickled from the vent in the lid, allowing the blessed aroma to fill the house. Paul was wearing big, red, pot-holder mittens on his hands. It was perfect, a quiet kitchen on a Sunday afternoon with his little lobster-handed boyfriend dancing carefree and full of joy in his sock feet. Daryl looked over to the table to find that it was already set. A French baguette sat sliced and slathered with melted butter and olive oil that had been infused with fresh chopped garlic and herbs, waiting for its moment under the broiler. Daryl snuck back to his room, grabbed his phone, and returned to the kitchen before starting to record the scene for posterity.

_Connor and Andy are gonna love this!_

“YAHH! Shit!” Paul yelled when he turned and saw Daryl. His hands had flown up, ready to defend himself in a micro-second before realizing it was Daryl standing there. He bit his lips and looked down, his face turning bright red like the oven mits. “Busted, huh?”

“Yep,” Daryl drawled. “You’re busted.”

Paul just looked down as he padded over, hugged Daryl around the waist, and pressed his forehead into Daryl’s massive chest. They both chuckled. Paul looked back up and placed his hand on Daryl’s forehead. He was relieved to find it feeling normal.

“How’re you feeling, hon?” asked Paul. “You hungry?”

Daryl nodded and murmured, “I’m starving. That soup smells damn good!”

“Let me toast the bread and we’re ready to eat!” Paul said, biting his bottom lip adorably and turning on his heel to head back to the counter. 

Daryl got a couple of soup bowls and glasses from the cupboard. He poured them both some cold, sweet tea—nectar of the gods if Paul or Carol made it—and placed the glasses on the table. The bowls he placed next to the stove as Paul grabbed a sheet pan, covered it with parchment paper, and placed the bread on it before popping it into the oven, turning on the broiler, and setting a timer.

Daryl sat down at the table. Paul walked over, leaned down, and kissed the top of his head. Daryl reached up and took hold of his gorgeous man’s hips, pulling Paul closer. Slowly, he kissed and nuzzled into Paul’s stomach, trying not to tickle but to demonstrate his undying affection. Paul’s groan was a happy affirmation. 

Daryl looked up into the most wonderful eyes he’d ever know as Paul looked back, the look full of an unfathomable emotion.

 ** _“Thank you.”_** The ride crested and dropped them deeper.

They smiled at each other, still fascinated by how in synch they were.

“You took care of me, knowing you could have gotten sick,” Daryl said.

“You let me take care of you,” Paul said. “You let me in.” 

**_“I fucking love you, Daryl/Paul.”_** Free-fall! 

The timer went off, and Paul broke the sweet kiss to take the bread out of the oven. In a few moments, they were seated at the table enjoying chicken soup with thyme, lemon, and penne pasta. 

“Oh my god!” Daryl exclaimed around a mouthful of the hot soup. “Did you get this recipe from Carol or the Food Channel?”

Paul smiled back and shook his head. “You like it?”

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Daryl nodded. “This is the best chicken soup I ever had.”

“Well, you are under the influence of starvation, so a can of soup might be fantastic right about now,” Paul reminded.

Daryl nodded. “You make a very good point, and that’s what me and Merle would have turned to, but this—this is so good.” Daryl looked at Paul’s smile and realization hit. “Did you just make this off the cuff?”

Paul smiled and nodded. “I’m really glad you like it. I hope it makes you feel better, love.”

“Never had a boyfriend who’d make me soup when I’m sick,” Daryl said, his thumb finding his teeth for a second before he caught himself. 

“You have one now,” Paul declared. “Right?”

Daryl looked back and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “A man could get used to it.”

Paul broke off a piece of garlic-herb bread and fed it to Daryl. “You mean a smokin’ hot man like mine?”

Daryl chewed the delicious bread and nodded pointedly. “Mm-hmm. You know, I feel pretty good…”

Paul looked back and arched an eyebrow; a slight, knowing sneer playing on his features. “You finish all your soup and take your medicine, and you get a reward.” 

The tip of Daryl’s tongue ran across his slightly parted lips as he watched Paul take a swallow of his tea. “Like what?” Daryl asked, starting to eat his soup and bread in earnest.

About forty-five minutes later, Daryl was naked again and lying on his back in a freshly changed bed. Paul slipped back in the room after the quick shower he’d taken. On seeing that Paul was hard, his remarkable manhood arcing up toward the ceiling, Daryl drew back the covers, revealing his own heavy, throbbing cock. 

“I think you’re happy to see me,” Daryl said, loving the feeling of Paul’s skin, slightly damp and warm from the hot water. 

“You are _definitely_ feeling better,” Paul said, straddling Daryl and leaning in to kiss him, their swollen cocks pulsing in time with their excited hearts.

“That’s for sure,” Daryl said into the kiss. “Still a little achy though.” The big man glanced down and his lips made a line. 

Paul caught the look of uncertainty. “Daryl, this is for you,” Paul said softly. “You don’t have to put on a major production. Tonight’s not about pounding me into the wall, then riding my cock like you’re trying to win the Kentucky Derby all while we swing from the chandelier—although that would be pretty hot. You’re recovering from the flu.”

“And I ain’t a teenager no more,” he muttered. “Hell, I'm barely even a thirty-something--"

The kiss that interrupted him stole his thunder and melted his heart.

“Let me ease your mind,” Paul whispered. He started to kiss down Daryl’s broad barrel-wide chest, giving the nipples extra attention with lips, teeth, and tongue. “You know, research says that sex helps you fight off illness and improves your immune system.” 

Paul continued his ministrations down Daryl’s abdomen, getting a chuckle in reply. When Paul got to his navel he felt Daryl shift.

“Here,” Daryl said. Getting Paul to turn so they could suck each other at the same time. 

“You sure?” Paul asked quietly. “I don’t have to come. Really.”

“I want you to,” Daryl declared, moving his hand between his glorious actor’s thighs and reaching up to rub Paul’s awesome ass. “I want to make you come in my mouth.”

“I know, but it’s okay if I don’t, right?” Paul asked. Daryl nodded to show that he got Paul’s message. Paul stroked his face. 

“Ain’t like I’m dying and coming back like that asshole, Seamus. Guy was a prick, leaving Mick for dead and screwing his wife like that,” Daryl said.

Paul’s jaw dropped. “You’ve been watching the show! Since when?”

“Since the guys at the shop started,” explained Daryl with a grin. “I’ve only seen the first two seasons, but it's pretty fucking awesome, and I ain'tjust sayin' that. Connor and Andy are killin' it. Literally.”

“I’m glad you feel better, Superman,” Paul said, leaning in, taking Daryl’s big cock in hand, and stroking it, letting Daryl feel the foreskin gliding back and forth. Daryl’s resulting moan was nothing short of obscene. 

Paul moved closer and took Daryl’s heavy balls into his mouth one at a time, gently sucking at the skin of the sac and tonguing the orbs to elicit more of the sounds he wanted from Daryl. He licked the underside of Daryl’s penis from base to tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum and cock slit. 

Paul gasped as he felt Daryl’s warm mouth take in more than half of his impressive member, his god-of-a-man massaging his ass with one hand and rubbing Paul’s hips, thighs, and balls with the other. Daryl loved hearing Paul moan when he ran his fingers in the trimmed hair at the base of his gorgeous actor’s long, thick cock. 

Daryl felt Paul go for broke, ignoring his need to breathe and taking Daryl into his throat, his nose reaching the base of the bigger man’s huge member. 

“Mmm,” was all Daryl could respond with. He began to quicken his pace, sucking Paul more greedily. His beautiful lover was returning the favor. Daryl rolled onto his back and kept Paul on top of him. He released Paul’s cock for a second, and Paul came up too, tossing his hair to his right so that he could look back over his left shoulder. 

“You okay?” Paul asked.

“God yeah,” Daryl replied, coughing twice, nodding, and grabbing the lubricant from the bedside table to dispense a quick pump. Paul smiled back and said, “Oh fuck! It’s on now.” He turned back to take Daryl’s hard, heavy length back into his mouth, bobbing long and lovingly.

Daryl smacked Paul’s ass with one hand and rubbed the stinging flesh as Paul groaned happily and slightly arched his back to better present his ass. Daryl reached up and pumped Paul’s cock a few times to mix the lube on his fingers with his perfect man’s pre-come. He shifted just a bit so that he could take Paul’s cock back into his mouth.

Daryl grabbed a handful of Paul’s ass, squeezing it as he rubbed his slicked fingers around Paul’s tight, pink rosebud. He gently penetrated the ring of muscle with his middle finger and moved it slowly in and out. He noticed Paul begin to move his hips. Fucking himself on Daryl’s finger while he fucked Daryl’s mouth. Daryl patted two fingers on the back of Paul’s hand. 

Paul moaned an emphatic “Mmhmm!”

Daryl added a second finger, finding the prostate with practiced ease and rubbing the perineum with his thumb. Paul began moving his hips faster, taking care not to force too deep on his brawny mechanic. Daryl’s fingers slid in and out, running gently against the gland when they entered fully. He could feel that shuddering in Paul’s hips and thighs as he brought his beautiful actor closer; his own orgasm was building rapidly as Paul’s lips and tongue worked magic. The heat in his abdomen began to pool and coalesce in his groin. He felt his thighs tighten, and his gut sunk in. Paul was rubbing his hunter’s perineum and bobbing rapidly on Daryl’s massive erection.

Paul’s whimpers and whines resulted in orgasm, shooting into Daryl’s mouth and forcing his lover to swallow the sweet nectar. Daryl spilled over, loving that he’d brought Paul to bear and given him such a strong climax. His own was mind-blowing as Paul continued to suck him long after he’d ejaculated a heavy load. When they were calm again, Paul shifted back up to kiss Daryl. 

“Thank god for mentholated ointment, right?” Daryl joked. Paul’s resulting laughter was pure joy. 

The beautiful actor laughed and hopped up to retrieve a soapy cloth for cleanup. Once they were refreshed, the humidifier was refilled, and they were settled in bed, Paul reached for their book to continue reading to Daryl of the latest exploits of Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomqvist. Daryl thought she was bomb-dot-com. She was almost as awesome as his boyfriend.


	10. High Speed Section

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl introduces Paul to karaoke night at The Reflex, and the boys exchange gifts to get ready to Ride Along with Connor Reedus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics cited here are from “Superstar” (Bramlett & Russell, 1969) as recorded by Sonic Youth and “Jungle Love” (Prince, Day, & Johnson, 1984) as recorded by The Time.

Daryl held the metal entry door open for Paul. He placed a comforting, free hand at the small of his beautiful actor’s back as the muscular redneck followed him in the door of _The Reflex_ karaoke bar on the outskirts of Senoia, GA. True to his handsome hunter’s description, Paul found the place to be a both cozy and inviting; it looked to have been renovated and updated fairly recently. A huge, outdoor deck, painted in battleship gray and adorned with patio sets of umbrella-covered tables and chairs, allowed the smokers to take partake in their collective habit while preventing the inside bar area from becoming too hazy and overwhelmed by smoke. Just inside the door was a tiny foyer with a cigarette machine, charging a hefty price per pack to the woefully unprepared. Turning right, they found the main bar running along the far right wall and turning at the back corner to form an “L” shape. It had varnished oak wood and old, traditional brass fixtures, including foot rails that ran along the bottom of the counters. There were black, counter-height tables with high stools located throughout the room. At the far left corner was a small stage set up with a couple of microphones, a lyrics monitor, and a sound booth at one side for the KJ. Tonight, that happened to be none other than Rosita’s fiancé, Sgt Abraham Ford. 

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Paul. “This is gonna be so much fun! Thank you for bringing me!”

“Thank _you_ for coming along,” Daryl replied, pulling Paul into his massive chest and placing a kiss on his beautiful man’s right temple. “You been working twelve straight days, and you got four more. You need a little fun time.”

The hoots and cries that caught their attention came roaring up from a pair of large tables that had been put together near the middle of the room where their extended family was enjoying themselves. Tara and Denise, Eugene, Merle, Carol, Father Gabriel, Jared and Alden, Aaron and Eric, and Rick and Michonne were heartily celebrating their arrival. Rosita was working behind the bar and bringing out short orders and drinks to the patrons. She stopped to kiss the boys on the cheeks and take their drink orders while handling a heavy tray and two mugs of beer in hand. 

“Hey!” called Denise. “You two get over here!” 

Daryl and Paul headed over to greet, hug, and kiss friends and family. Daryl found a pair of stools for them both. 

Abe’s friendly voice came blaring from the tower speakers. “All right now, do my eyes deceive, or is that the Dixon brother ain’t never been caught?”

Daryl’s eyes went wide and his jaw hit the floor as he tried to hide his face in his palms. 

“Hello, boys! Oh, _Daaa-ryyyl…_ Wait a minute, now. Who’s that coming in here with you, man? Is this the super-cute, _really hot_ , movie star boyfriend everybody’s been telling me about? Is this by chance—the _one_ , the _only . . . Paul ‘Jesus’ Rovia_?” Abe asked in a deep, basso voice, nodding and obviously joking with the pair. “Holy mother-dick! He’s so damn good-looking Rosie might have to give _me_ a fucking pass! Shit! Way to go, Daryl, you lucky dog bastard. Look at ‘em, y’all. They’re turning red as my wiry pubes.”

“Now, there’s an image I could have done without!” said Tara, taking a gulp of her beer. “Thanks, Abe!”

“That’s for the boys, not you, Tara! Just givin’ ‘em some more fantasy material. You know, keep it spicy,” Abe quipped, winking pointedly at Paul and Daryl. Daryl just grinned back at the big man and flipped him the middle finger in jest. The patrons at the center table were falling out in laughter. “Now, let’s get this rotation started, shall we? Miss Carol is up first. Father G, you are on deck, and Denise is in the bullpen.” 

Rosita stopped back by the table, dropped off their beers, and took their food orders. She also dropped pens and pre-printed paper slips for RPG Productions Karaoke which was her and Abraham’s karaoke side business. 

Carol’s first song of the evening turned out to be a superb rendition of Reba McEntyre’s “Fancy.” Carol was a playful performer, taking advantage of the wireless microphone to saunter out into the crowd, cavort with some of the other patrons, and end up in Merle’s lap to raucous cheers and applause. In the end, she took a quick bow and returned the microphone to the stand on the stage. 

“She is awesome!” Paul exclaimed to Daryl. 

“Told ya,” Daryl said back, raise his brows and smiling his adorable, crooked smlie.

“Hey, Pookie!” Carol said, stopping by to put her arms on Daryl’s and Paul’s shoulders and kiss the tops of their heads. “Hey, Snookums!” 

“ _Snookums_?” Daryl asked. 

Paul gasped. A smile lit up his face, and he beamed back at Carol. “I got a cute nickname from Carol!” he exclaimed. 

“I thought that would fit,” Carol said. “You’ve made it, kiddo! You’re one of the family now.” She bent down and kissed Paul’s cheek. “Fill out your slips!” she ordered, putting the pen in Daryl’s hand. “And write neatly. Abe forgot his glasses.”

“And there you have it, folks! Miss Carol’s just given us the formula to run the best little whorehouse in Senoia. So, to follow that, we’re gonna get Father G up here to break out the holy ghost. I reckon we all need to repent now!” said Abraham joked, sighing dramatically over the loud speaker. “Rosita, please bring around the collection plate, and darling, send it right there around that middle table full of sinners twice! I mean, hell, they’re so bad they have to sit with the preacher! That bunch needs all the help they can get!”

To Paul’s complete surprise, Father Gabriel’s performance of Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” was fantastic. People even got up to dance on the small dance floor between the stage and the pool tables. At the end of his song, Father Gabriel waved humbly and smiled on his way back to the center table, shaking hands and giving fist-bumps.

“Get your hallelujah on, Father G!” cried Jared, jumping up, hollering out praises for the preacher, and giving the man a double high-five.

Daryl leaned in, his deep voice breathy in Paul’s ear. “See why I don’t like to sing around these folks ‘til I’ve had a couple of beers?”

“I was so not expecting that,” Paul confessed. “Damn, baby. Maybe I better go practice before I—“ 

The kiss cut off the doubt. The tickle of their beards, the soft touch of their lips, the warm but brief exchange of tongues.

“ _Whoa_!” said Denise, seeing the spectacular kiss as she was getting up to take her turn. 

“Holy nut-buster!” Abraham said over the speakers. “Hey, y’all, I think I just ovulated.”

Daryl and Paul couldn’t help but laugh and shake their heads at the table’s occupants and the burly KJ. Alden stepped back over from the bar with a tray of tequila shots dressed with salt and lime wedges. Denise recoiled and shook her head mentioning something about “fool me once” as she headed up to sing KT Tunstall’s “Black Horse and a Cherry Tree.” Daryl and Paul had no such reservations as they licked the back of their hands, shook salt on them, licked it off, threw back the shots, and bit into the limes, sucking the sharp juice down to chase the tequila. 

“Hoo!” cried Paul, grimacing. “That’s where it’s at! Okay, I know what I’m singing now.” He took a slip, wrote down a song, and waited on Daryl expectantly. Daryl sighed, wrote something down on the slip, folded it, and handed it to Paul. Paul was good enough not to look at the mystery song as he took the slips up to Abraham. 

Next up were Michonne and Alden, singing “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” by Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty. Jared dedicated his song to the duo and sang Rick James’ “Give It to Me Baby,” complete with shirtless dancing. Michonne and Father G were throwing slips like dollars to “make it rain!” Merle crooned slightly off-key to Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places,” but with the support of the crowd behind him—and several beers—he gave a performance worthy of Madison Square Garden. Tara sang Pink’s “Raise Your Glass” as the next round was dropped off by Rosita, along with Daryl’s pesto chicken sandwich and the two appetizer platters Paul bought for the table, ensuring everyone had a little something on their stomachs as the drinks flowed.

Daryl had just finished his last bite of food and washed it down with a swallow of beer when Abraham called him to the stage. 

“He can go first,” Daryl said, standing and pointing at Paul. His gorgeous actor merely shoved him playfully toward the stage. 

“C’mon, Daryl! Get up there!” hollered Tara encouragingly as she passed him on her way back to kiss her girlfriend and snag a loaded potato skin.

Daryl slowly walked up to the KJ booth, shook Abraham’s hand as he exchanged some words ending in a hearty belly laugh from both guys, and finally, took his place at the mic and adjusted the height of the stand. 

The crowd became rowdy throughout the entire venue as the opening bars of “Copperhead Road” by Steve Earle began to thrum through the speakers. Tara’s piercing whistle and Merle’s rebel yell tore through the shouts and applause. Daryl looked over at Paul and waggled his eyebrows, smiling his crooked smile and getting a glorious smile back. It made Daryl’s night, and Paul’s ultra-hot redneck began singing into the microphone; in his imagination, Paul could picture Daryl running moonshine. Abraham’s preset light show and fog machine just added to the entire larger-than-life performance. Paul knew Daryl could sing—he’d heard him in the truck, in the shower, and even singing sweetly to him after they’d made love outside in the hammock in Daryl’s backyard. By the time he finished, Daryl was the object of a ton of adoration, and not just from their tables. Patrons and employees throughout the bar were getting into the spirit of things.

Daryl put the microphone back into the stand, shook Abe’s hand again, and dropped a ten dollar bill in the KJ’s tip jar. He sauntered over to sit back down and get a kiss from Paul as Rosita dropped by with new beers.

“Well, if we run low on liquor tonight, we know who to call,” Abraham jested over the loud speakers. “And _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, brings up our lord and savior, Paul ‘Jesus’ Rovia.”

Paul’s eyes widened as he shrugged, stole another quick kiss from Daryl, and rose to make his way to the microphone. Following his tall, strapping hunter, he had to lower the mic stand just a little. “Well, here goes.”

“Oh my god, Daryl!” Abraham teased. “Even his voice is sexy. You must be worthless at the shop with this guy at home. Right, Merle?”

“Don’t get me fired, tonight, Red!” Merle hollered back. 

“Y’all get ready,” Abe warned everyone as he squinted at the computer screen. “I just remembered what song this guy put in.”

An 80s techno extravaganza burst forth from the speakers, bringing the entirety of the center table occupants to their feet and onto the dance floor—even Daryl pulled in the wake of Denise and Jared. The song tore the place wide open. Paul snatched the mic out of the stand and slunk up next to Daryl on the tiny dance floor in the middle of the friends and other dancing patrons.

Paul’s voice echoed through the room, singing Dead Or Alive’s club classic, “You Spin Me Round.” Daryl was in utter awe and grinning like a complete fool; he knew Paul had a good voice, but he’d never heard him sing all out. His smokin’ hot man was apparently just as talented at singing and acting as he was sexy. When the song ended, everyone was in search of their drink, and Daryl was ready for a cigarette on the front deck. Paul dropped the mic back on the stand, shoved a twenty in the tip jar, and grabbed their beers to meet Daryl outside. 

It had started to sprinkle a bit in the early October night. Daryl offered Paul a smoke, but he politely declined, and elected to rub Daryl’s back while the big man leaned across the outer railing. 

“You fellas mind some company?” asked Carol as she and Alden stepped out to light up. 

“C’mon over!” Paul called, his hands working the knot from Daryl’s left shoulder blade. 

“You were both amazing!” Carol exclaimed as she took a seat under one of the large table umbrellas. 

“Hey, guys,” said Alden. “If I can get Gabriel and Jared in, would you guys do ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with us?”

“Shit yeah!” said Daryl, not a trace of hesitation in his reply. Alden ran back to the door to yell for Father G to put in the song. Two hours, several beers, and quite a few songs later, Abraham called Daryl up for his last song, pausing the make out moment the boys were having in the dark corner near the pool table, their game abandoned. 

Daryl sauntered up to the mic as the music started. He looked into Paul’s beautiful, misty blue eyes for a second, then closed his own, the lyrics of the song already chiseled into his mind and heart. He remembered that his mother had loved the song, playing it on an eight-track cassette on the old stereo console they’d gotten as a wedding present—the one he and Merle dared not touch. She had loved The Carpenters version. When Daryl’s favorite band had covered the song, it rang through him like a gong; he’d never sung it for anyone until this moment.

>   
>  _Long ago_  
>  And oh so far away  
>  I fell in love with you  
>  Before the second show  
>  Your guitar  
>  It sounds so sweet and clear  
>  But you're not really there  
>  It's just the radio
> 
> __
> 
> Don't you remember you told me you love me, baby  
>  You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby  
>  Baby baby baby baby, oh, baby  
>  I love you, I really do
> 
> Loneliness, is such a sad affair  
>  And I can hardly wait  
>  To be with you again  
>  What to say  
>  To make you come again  
>  Come back to me again  
>  And play your sad guitar
> 
> Don't you remember you told me you love me, baby  
>  You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby  
>  Baby baby baby baby, oh, baby  
>  I love you, I really do
> 
> _Don't you remember you told me you love me, baby_  
>  You said you'd be coming back this way again, baby  
>  Baby baby baby baby, oh, baby  
>  I love you, I really do  
> 

The cheers from the middle tables got him to open his eyes slowly. Paul was right there, his entire being love made flesh. He was holding out a hand to Daryl, who waved his thanks to their cheering friends and family and made a beeline for his perfect man.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Paul shuddered. 

“You got a song left?”

Paul nodded. “You just gave me soul-deep. Now, I have to respond. It’s only fair, right?”

Daryl smirked and leaned in to steal a kiss. Paul heard Abraham page him, apparently for the second time, and he and Daryl both chuckled into the kiss. 

“And, hey!” Paul said, turning back to catch Daryl’s attention. “Don’t close your eyes. You’re gonna wanna see this.” Paul’s leer and flash of bedroom eyes was unmistakable. Daryl cocked his head and tried to hold in his bottom lip to keep from grinning back like an idiot. 

On his way to the mic, Paul stopped Rosita and handed her his card, pointing at the center tables, then grabbed the mic and looked over at Abraham. “Hit it!” The snare drum popped and the bass, brass, and keyboards launched in grand funk style as Morris Day and The Time’s “Jungle Love” brought the entire room to its feet and Jared and Tara onto the bar. And so that it was absolutely clear to everyone, Paul adjusted the pronouns to fit his perfect man, the one looking back at him with his own leer reflected in those storm blue eyes.

>   
>  _I—wanna take you to my cage_  
>  Lock you up and hide the key  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  You—are only getting part of pig  
>  ‘Cause if youre hungry  
>  Take a bite of me  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)
> 
> __
> 
> __
> 
> _Oh, my jungle love! Yes!_  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  I think I wanna know ya (know ya)  
>  Jungle love  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  Boy I got to show ya (show ya)  
> 

Paul danced his way off the stage and around the tables, singing to various people until reaching his final destination directly between Daryl’s thighs as the hot mechanic lay back on his elbows on the abandoned pool table. Paul hoisted Daryl back up to a seated position on the edge of the pool table, loving his devilishly handsome redneck’s blush and that shy grin Daryl was trying to fight off and losing completely.

>   
>  _I got a bearskin rug_  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  I got a fireplace too  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  And I'm all the way wild baby  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
>  All the things I could do to you!  
>  (OH EE OH EE OH!)  
> 

Paul spun away briefly, finished his performance to thunderous applause, moved back over, and kissed Daryl deeply. The crowd went wild!

“I guess I did pretty good, huh?” Paul spoke loudly to cut through the noise.

“Fuck yeah, you did,” Daryl laughed and checked his phone. “It’s about a quarter ‘til 11:00. I ain’t trying to be your daddy and tell you how late you can stay up, but I just know that fucking 4:45 alarm is goddamn merciless.”

Paul nodded. “I’m way ahead of you, _Daddy_ ,” Paul said, his voice breathy and dripping with desire. Daryl moaned low; he could smell the sweet, smoky bourbon Paul had just sipped as his beautiful actor leaned their foreheads together, lips brushing sweetly. 

Hearing the waitress drop by, Daryl leaned back and watched Paul get his card back from Rosita, sign the tablet with his finger, and hand her a hundred dollar bill in addition to the tip he was putting on the card. She kissed him on the cheek and thanked them for coming. Paul turned back and smiled at Daryl as they walked over to the center table where their friends and family were camped out. 

“I know we’re supposed to be out here partying like rock stars,” Paul said to his handsome hunter, “but I have some things, and definitely some _one_ , to take care of when we get back to my place.”

Daryl stepped up close and turned Paul back to face him, his massive arms encircling Paul’s waist as he shook his head. “Nah,” he countered, licking his lips. “Tonight, I’m taking care of _you_. Let’s say our goodbyes and head out.”

The duo hugged their compatriots as they exchanged goodnight wishes and promises to be careful on their respective drives home. They held hands as they dropped by the KJ booth to thank Abraham one last time. 

“Damn, Daryl! Shit finally settled, huh?”

Daryl shook his head and huffed a laugh at his friend. 

“Seriously, man. Glad you finally found religion,” Abraham said smiling, his hand over his KJ mic so only Daryl could hear him. “For fucks’s sake, man, go cash out, head home, and raise your feet to Jesus! Shit!” Abraham said.

“Already on our way, man! It was nice to meet you,” Paul said, smiling back. “Please get my email from Tara or Jared. I heard that Rosita’s a fan of the show, and I just got asked to participate in a convention coming up right around Halloween. I want to get you guys some passes to get in as my guests.” 

Abraham’s face looked totally taken aback then smiled wide. “By the virgin Mary’s dangling clit ring, dude! You just got me some anal!”

Abraham and Daryl burst into laughter at Paul’s wide eyes, obviously having been mentally assaulted by the imagery. 

“”Hey, hey, hey!” Daryl said, drawing Paul back closer as his perfect partner guffawed. “Stop roughing the listeners, Abe!”

“And be gentle with it!” Paul advised. “She’s not a piñata!” Abraham fell out laughing, then called Rosita to the stage to sing with him. 

The metal door opened and closed to let the duo out, the music of The Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me Baby” waxing, waning, and following them out into the parking lot. Paul started the red Mazda as Daryl buckled his seatbelt. 

In no time, Paul was closing the garage while Daryl unlocked the access door and reset the security system. Once they were inside, Daryl took the keys from Paul’s hand and placed them in the stone tray on the side table by the door as he pulled Paul’s knuckles up to his lips, kissing them gently. The next thing Paul knew, Daryl swept him up and carried him into the kitchen, Paul’s arms around the redneck’s colossal shoulders and his legs wrapped around Daryl’s waist. The strong man easily maneuvered through the darkened living room and up the stairs while Paul kissed him and nuzzled against his lips, face, and neck. Daryl lay him back onto the bed and began to remove his perfect man’s shoes and socks, then his shirt. Next came his jeans and underwear in one magical motion. The younger man tried to sit up and help Daryl take off his clothing, but Daryl just smiled and gently eased Paul back down.

“You need to come, then get some good sleep,” Daryl intoned. “You’ll get all you want of me tomorrow and again this weekend after we ride up to Helen. I promise. Now, lie back, and let me show you how much I love you.” Paul shuddered as Daryl started to lick up the underside of his rock-hard member. “So fucking beautiful.”

Paul’s breathing was quick and heated. Daryl used his hands, mouth, and tongue as he coaxed every whimper and whine from his gorgeous young man, tantalizing him, kissing at Paul’s hip bone, licking and mouthing down the crook between thigh and genitals, and making Paul’s back arch when Daryl took his beloved’s incredible cock into his hot mouth, working him within an inch of his life. 

Daryl moved up to keep the head in his mouth. His tongue played at Paul’s cock head. He stroked the shaft up, playing with what foreskin he could, it being retracted by Paul’s large size. The blowjob was hard, fast, and feral. Daryl reached up to pinch Paul’s left nipple, twisting it hard and getting a gasp from Paul just as he began flicking his tongue at the slit of the erect phallus. With his other hands, he stroked Paul’s sac, gently rubbing the heavy balls as they began to draw up in anticipation of a strong climax. Daryl reach back down and stroked Paul’s shaft while he put a love bite on Paul’s lower abdomen, just beneath his Atlas belt where the dark, closed-trimmed hair started. Soon he had sucked a hickey near the base of the throbbing cock before taking it back into his mouth and bobbing deep and furious upon it. Paul was gasping, hands clenched in Daryl’s hair.

“I’m so close!” Paul cried; his breath was frantic. “Oh god! Daryl! I love—I love you!”

Daryl ran his heavy, strong fingers through the trimmed hair over Paul’s pubis, his other hand stroking and pressing firmly against Paul’s perineum. He forced himself to take in as much of Paul’s exceptional length he could, bobbing as fast as he could. His eyes were watering as he tried to suck in air through his nose and keep working his lips and tongue. An almost feral growl of lust rumbled in his chest. 

Paul’s head flew back to the bed as he cried out. Daryl began to swallow as fast as he could, feeling Paul release over and over again into his mouth. He continued to suck and make Paul groan helplessly, playing with his man’s over-sensitive afterglow as he brought him back down. Paul pulled Daryl up on top of him and kissed him deeply, tongue filling his lover’s sweet mouth where he’d just released, tasting his ejaculate and his perfect lover. Daryl looked into Paul beautiful, misty blue eyes, the only light coming from the adjoining bathroom. He shook his own hair from his face as he pulled Paul’s out from behind his ear to let it hang freely. Daryl licked his swollen lips to speak.

 ** _“You’re my everything.”_** The ride shifted in a heartline loop that churned their heavy emotions and physical exhaustion when they smiled and kissed each other again for dear life.

Just before midnight, Paul was fast asleep in Daryl’s arms, his head on Daryl huge bicep and his gorgeous mechanic spooned up behind him, watching over him silently as he slept. He hadn’t meant to wake Paul up, but the sniff and the flowing tears wouldn’t fucking stop. 

Paul rolled over to face Daryl, trying to wake up. “Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice was heavy with sleep, but the worry in his tone was clear.

Daryl rolled to face him. “Nothing,” he answered. “I ain’t never been happier in my whole life. You’re _real_.”

“Mmhmm. And I love you so,” Paul assured, turning Daryl around and spooning him. The big, handsome, happy redneck fell asleep to Paul humming “Superstar” to him, Daryl’s gorgeous man warm and soothing against his scarred flesh.

The next thing he knew, he was blinking awake in the dark of the room. Paul was stroking the hair from Daryl’s face. He could barely make out that Paul was dressed for the day, but he clearly heard him telling him he loved him more than life itself as he kissed him goodbye. Paul also told him he’d reset the alarm for Daryl to be able to make it to the gym. 

Daryl’s day was long, but very productive. He had lunch with Maggie and Glenn at _Short Round_ and was pleased to get a video call from Paul just as they sat down, and they all got a chance to talk to each other. He also got a call from Connor, thanking the both of them again for being part of the new show, and to let him know that everything was set for the _Ride Along_ episode: route mapped out, interesting stops planned, hotel rooms booked. Connor and Paul would be dropping off their bikes tonight at his place. The motorcycles would be in his shop the next morning to be serviced by Daryl himself.

That evening, when Daryl dropped by his place to check on the house upkeep and his mail, he got a call from Merle.

“Yo!” hollered Merle. “It arrived.”

“Hey, man,” Daryl said, sorting the junk mail and bills out. 

Daryl blinked once, and a wide smile broke open on his face as realization struck that the special item he had ordered for Paul had finally arrived. He’d wanted to keep it a surprise, so he’d had it shipped to Merle’s place.

“It did?” Daryl asked excitedly. “Yes! When?”

“Just after Sophia got off the bus this afternoon. I guess that was a little before four,” Merle explained. “She signed for it and took it inside. You want to come over and open it up? Maybe have some dinner with us?”

“Yeah,” said Daryl. “Need beer?”

“We got beer and dinner covered, little brother,” answered Merle. “Does my famous future brother-in-law eat meatloaf?”

Daryl smiled and shook his head, sighing. He could see Merle standing in the super kitchen they had rebuilt and updated together, winking at Carol slyly as she smiled back and snickered under her breath. 

“Yeah,” the younger Dixon answered. “He’ll eat meatloaf.”

“Good,” Merle said. “Now, get your ass in the truck. You need to borrow my trailer for the bikes?”

“That’d be real nice, big brother,” Daryl answered honestly. “Be over in a few. Bye.”

“Later!” Merle said, disconnecting. 

At 10:34 that evening, after having eaten with Merle’s family and secured the towing trailer, Daryl returned to his place with a plate for Paul and the special package. As he pulled into the driveway, he found Paul’s Royal Enfield and another Triumph Tiger 800 XCA parked at the side of the house. Daryl pulled around and backed the trailer up to the bikes as a light came on under the garage. Paul and Connor came out of the house and waved. 

“Daryl!” called Connor. 

“Hey, man!” Daryl said, returning the greeting. “You guys finally get out for the night?”

“Yeah, man,” Connor said, lighting up a smoke and offering a Morley to Daryl who accepted it gratefully along with the beer Paul handed him. 

“Hey,” Paul said, stepping up to him and kissing his man. “Brought you a piece of chocolate cake from the restaurant.”

Daryl smiled and kissed his man again, his tongue entering Paul’s inviting mouth. Paul always found him sources of chocolate. 

Connor’s chuckle broke them up as the actor mused, “Now _that’s_ how one of y’all ends up pregnant. Trust me. Words of experience here.” Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Wow! I just used y’all without a dialect coach around. Cool!”

“Like real redneck, man. Let’s get these loaded and secured,” Daryl said, kissing Paul on the forehead and setting his beer aside.

He walked around the back of the trailer, cigarette dangling from his lips as he slipped the bikes into neutral, rolled them up the ramp, and adjusted the hauling straps to secure the motorcycles before covering them with a rain tarp. 

Siddiq’s SUV pulled into the driveway, and the passenger side window lowered. “Yo! Anybody need a ride to Palmetto?” 

“Hey!” called Connor. “Thanks for the ride, Siddiq!” He turned to hug Daryl and Paul, giving each a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you guys! Thanks again for servicing the bikes and doing this. Let me know how much I owe you.”

Daryl shook his head. “Not one fucking dime, man. Besides that,” he said, jaw firm and shrugging in that way that Paul had come to know meant that he was sincere, “you’re family ‘round here.”

Connor was taken aback for a moment before hugging the pair again and replying, “Aww, man. You guys are fucking awesome! Paul, you guys have to come to Costa Rica this January.”

“You guys be careful,” Paul said to Connor and Siddiq as Connor got into the SUV. “See you in the morning.” Siddiq drove them out of the driveway and on down the road. 

Daryl grabbed the package and handed the travel plate to Paul. 

“Wow! Carol’s meatloaf! And mashed potatoes! Oh, and the roast Brussel sprouts with bacon!” He sighed and looked at Daryl. “Is it too late to call and say ‘thank you?’” 

“She’d like that,” the brawny mechanic said, planting a slow kiss on Paul’s perfect, pink lips. 

They walked in the door as the garage bay closed behind them. Daryl put the package on the kitchen table.

“Heat up your dinner,” Daryl advised. “I need to get something.” He kissed Paul, turned him toward the microwave, and slapped his perky ass before dashing to the bedroom.

Paul opened the insulated plate and checked the contents. Although they weren’t piping hot, they were warm enough for him, and as hungry as he was, he couldn’t wait. The meatloaf was rich and tender with a tangy homemade steak sauce rather than just barbecue sauce from a bottle. The potatoes were Yukon gold, creamy and buttery with an au jus resting in a central indention. The sprouts were perfect, roasted to perfection and seasoned just right with smoky bacon crumbles. Paul made himself stop eating after a third of the plate was inhaled. The last thing he wanted was indigestion after such a fabulous meal. He closed the lid and put the plate in the refrigerator. He also gave Carol a quick call to thank her. 

Daryl stepped back into the kitchen. There was something in his hand.

“That meatloaf is to die for. Hey, whatcha got there?” asked Paul, smiling.

“I wanted to show you this,” Daryl answered. He placed a black leather vest with adjustable cross-tie sides down on the countertop. Next to the package. “I told you about how after Merle got out of the military, he got involved with a rough crowd, doing drugs, selling ‘em—he had a real rough patch, even a couple of stints in jail. He got in deep and owed some pretty nasty folks some serious money. I got him out of that, helped him get straightened up, got him a job, and helped him get back to being Merle and not some degenerate just waiting for a final strike to end up spending the rest of his life in jail or on death row.”

Daryl turned the vest over to reveal a pair of angel wings. The vest was well-worn but obviously well-loved and cared for. 

“Later on, I had my own rough patch,” Daryl continued. Paul listened intently, taking in each word as he took Daryl’s hand. “I withdrew from everybody and everything. Rick and Merle let me know it was okay to be me. To be gay, be out. To fuck.” He looked up into Paul’s magnificent eyes. “To fall in love,” Daryl said softly, swallowing as he squeezed Paul’s hand.

“Merle had this made for me,” Daryl explained. “He said I was his guardian angel. When he and Rick were there for me, I had vests made for them.” He turned to the kitchen table, picked up the brown cardboard package and placed it in front of Paul. 

Paul’s mouth fell open as his breath caught; his eyes were shining with tears. Daryl inclined his head at the box, silently telling Paul to open it. Paul took out his key and slashed the brown packing tape. He opened the box and removed the package paper to reveal a glorious, new, black leather motorcycle jacket with removable sleeves. 

“Turn it over,” Daryl instructed, jerking his chin up slightly at Paul.

Paul huffed a small exhale and turned the jacket over to reveal the white wings. 

“You like it?”

“Oh my god, Daryl. I don’t know what to say. I love it!” Daryl’s wonderful boyfriend was completely overcome. “Thank you.”

Daryl stepped and took Paul’s face in his hands. “Thank _you_. You saved me too,” he said, kissing Paul softly. “I love you, Paul. You’re my dream come true when I’d already run out of ‘em.”

“Oh, angel,” Paul said, “I love you so much. I don’t think the word ‘love’ can even _begin_ to describe what we have.” 

He kissed his wondrous hunter again, took him by the hand, and led him back to the bedroom where they undressed and slipped into bed together. There they cuddled, kissed, and talked to each other, expressing their undying adoration over and over while soaking in the closeness and intimacy of each other. When the unforgiving alarm pierced the darkness at a quarter ‘til five the next morning, Daryl rolled over to hit the snooze button and to kiss Paul’s chest over and over until his beautiful man woke up smiling back down at him.

“Time to make some magic, sleepy-head,” Daryl drawled. “Gotta get up, beautiful.”

Without warning, Paul did some kind of ninja move and had Daryl pinned as he attacked the gorgeous mechanic’s huge chest, peppering it with kisses and sucking at his nipples, and leaving a hickey right under Daryl’s right ear. 

“What are you doing today?” Paul asked. “Wanna have lunch with me on set? I should be free around noon, 12:30 at the latest.”

“I’ll be there,” Daryl assured. “This evening, I have to go check on Coach and Ms Lucille. She ain’t doing so good. Pain’s been pretty bad. Coach says she eats better when I drop by.”

Paul kissed Daryl’s chest right over his heart, his hair falling across Daryl the way he knew the brawny hunter loved it. “I know why your chest is so big.”

“Why’s that?” Daryl asked, intrigued with where this was going.

“Because,” Paul said as if it were the simplest explanation in the world. “It has to be when you have a heart as big as yours.”

Daryl huffed a laugh and looked down at his perfect partner who was looking back up at him. He stroked Paul’s face lovingly. Daryl felt Paul’s body shift, hips coming up to grind against his own. 

“You got time?” Daryl asked. His ultra-hot boyfriend peeked at the clock and nodded.

Paul sat upright, straddling Daryl’s hips, both men hard beyond morning wood. He ran a loving hand up and down Daryl’s chest and stomach before grabbing both their cocks in a double handful and stroking them together. Daryl started to moan immediately. Seeing the heated look on his glorious boyfriend’s face made him even more excited. 

“Make it fast, baby. Make me come, please, Paul” Daryl begged.

“This weekend…” Paul said. 

Daryl could feel Paul’s pre-come dripping onto his own cock. Paul used it to slick the huge shafts.

“Yeah?” Daryl asked. His toes were curling, his abs clenching, his thighs shaking.

“When we’re up in the hotel in Helen?”

“Uh-huh?” Daryl asked, his and Paul’s breaths coming faster. 

“I want to fuck you while we wear our vests,” he cried. “Like two angels.” Paul started to moan obscenely. 

Daryl came up off the pillow as he shot his load all up his own stomach and chest. Paul followed, his come jetting out to paint Daryl sweetly. Paul leaned down and gave Daryl the most erotic tongue bath of his life, licking every trace of their climax from Daryl’s body before kissing him and rising to get into the shower. Daryl lay in bed for a moment, marveling at the fact that he was _still_ incredibly hard. In fact, he was ready to go again. _That’s_ what Paul did to him. 

He rose out of bed, followed Paul into the bathroom, and stepped into the steaming shower behind him. Paul was just rinsing off when Daryl spun him around, dropped to his knees, and proceeded to eat his young man’s hot hole, preparing him with two fingers. Paul’s length responded immediately, growing with his need for release. The big hunter lubed himself with the bottle they now kept in the shower and slid his long, thick cock into Paul’s tight, warm channel, fucking him hard and fast, telling Paul how fucking hot he made him, how much he wanted him, how he loved him, and that he was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Paul came powerfully, one hand braced against the shower wall and the other grabbing Daryl’s hair and pulling him in to kiss him, just as Daryl filled him with another hot load. Laughing and heady from their amazing sex, a clean but wobbly-legged Paul tried to get himself dried off and clothed enough to get to work. Daryl turned off the water, stepped out and kissed his wet, satiated man goodbye, and promised to come meet him on set for lunch. 

Daryl took the bikes in to the shop, locked them up, and then went back out to the gym. When he got back to the shop, he started to work. Merle and the crew arrived not long after he had finished with Connor’s bike. 

“How did he like it?” Merle asked.

“He loved it,” Daryl said. “Said it was so fucking good he had to back off or he’d have made himself sick. Then again, I think he’d love a cow patty as long as it was Carol who cooked it up.” He could see Merle was losing his patience.

“You know damn good ‘n well I ain’t talking about no meatloaf!” Merle groused. “We all know my woman can cook. Now what about the jacket? Did he like it? What all did you tell him?”

“I told him everything,” Daryl said. 

_“And_?” Merle looked like he was about to burst.

Daryl sighed. “And we both cried about it, and he loved it, and he more-than-loves me and I more-than-love him. And we both laid in each other’s arms all night, and . . . we told each other how much we mean to one another. And I woke up ‘cause I had to make sure he was still there, still real.”

Merle blinked at that but seemed satisfied and nodded back. “I get it,” the elder Dixon said quietly. He’d done the same thing when he’d first started seeing Carol.

“ _And_ ,” Daryl added. “We’re gonna wear the wings on the show this weekend.” 

“How ‘bout that. Dixon MC,” Merle mused, a huge grin cutting across his features. “That’s us.” Merle turned to head back into the shop. 

“Hey!” Daryl said, stopping his big brother. “Do me a favor.”

Merle listened to his little brother and scoffed at first, but Daryl was finally able to convince him. Then, he sent a text. Just before he was about to head out for lunch, he got a reply. 

**_12:06 PM_ **  
_BigBoneHead: Hell yeah! *winking face* Tell them to get their bikes ready n I’ll get another room. We ride out this Friday afternoon! *motorcycle emoji* Come eat w/ us._

Daryl smiled all the way on the ride into Senoia. He turned his truck onto Sylvan and parked in the side lot, grabbing his security badge from the center console compartment. He exchanged pleasantries with the guard on duty and made his way in toward the craft services trucks. Paul looked worn out, but that didn’t impede the heart-stopping smile he gave Daryl upon seeing him approach. 

“Glad you could make it,” Paul said.

Daryl felt a massive arm catch him across the shoulders followed by a quick lick to his cheek as a Connor had snuck up to him. The actor/artist was slathered in sun tan oil, fake blood, and make-up grime. His Wayfarer Ray-Ban sunglasses and the cell phone in his hand—as he clicked the selfie—were the only things that made him appear to still be part of this world rather than the one that Davy struggled in every day. If it had been almost anybody else, Daryl would have decked them, but Connor was just so damn lovable. 

“This guy would crawl naked over broken glass just to have lunch with you,” Connor said. 

“So, I hear we’re gonna have some company,” Paul said. 

Daryl nodded. “Connor said it was okay. I really want Merle and Rick to be a part of this. Wear their wings too.”

“Dude,” Connor said. “When Paul showed me a picture of the wings—ah, man! Those are killer!”

“Hey!” yelled Laura, seated with Andy and Dana, who were also waving the fellows over. “Come eat! We don’t wanna have to kill the carnie-zombies on an empty stomach this afternoon.”

“Yo, that’s all y’all!” cried Connor. 

Paul and Daryl ate and laughed with the cast and crew. After about forty-five minutes, Connor and Andy excused themselves to go with Elana and Dana to hand out lunch packs and take pictures with the extras. 

“So, this afternoon I have to shoot a scene with Connor,” Paul said, keeping his tone professional and matter-of-fact. 

Daryl wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and took a swallow of his water. “This the one where Merlin rescues Davy, brings him back to himself, and they kiss?”

“Yep,” Paul said. “And more. Pretty much like the scenes we read, only it’s Davy who makes the first move, not Merlin.”

Daryl’s eyebrows raised. “That makes more sense.”

“How so?”

“Well,” Daryl shrugged, looking down at his empty plate. “Davy’s country as a chicken coop, but he ain’t stupid. He must see something pretty special in Merlin, something beyond the smoke and mirrors to get to the man behind the curtain. He’s seen so many people get killed without taking a chance.” 

Daryl looked away for a second, bit his thumbnail, stopped himself, and looked back into Paul’s eyes. Paul watched him steadily, face not judging or laughing at the thought as he swallowed his bite of food. 

“Probably knows he ain’t gonna have many chances of his own,” Daryl continued. “When you find it, you better go all in while you can.” His jaw was set, his lips a serious line.

Paul stood to lean over the table and kiss his perfect man. “I think we both know,” Paul started.

**_“I’m all in.”_** The pair lost themselves in each other, swinging in a loop-to-loop. The next thing they knew, Daryl was holding Paul in his arms, feet totally off the ground. Both of them were grinning at each other like total idiots as they rested their foreheads and noses together.

It was heaven.

“ _Dude_ ,” came Laura’s voice as she smacked Connor on the arm. “You better be taking notes, because _that_ is fucking _hot_.”

“Holy fuck,” Connor said, nearly choking on his drag. 

“Okay guys,” said a production assistant. “Time for touch-ups and then we’re back up. Connor and Paul, they want you guys at the outpost where Merlin rescues Davy in ten.”

“Paul!” Connor yelled. Everyone turned, their attention now on the pair. “You _comin_ '?”

Both Daryl and Paul huffed a laugh. “Almost! I gotta go,” his adorable actor said ruefully, twisting his lips in a grimace. “I can’t wait to be alone with you this evening. So, I’m gonna go make out with Connor.”

Daryl put Paul back down. “Go make your magic, hottie,” Daryl said, then whispered into Paul’s ear. “Make him wish he was me.” 

“There’s only _one_ Daryl Dixon, and I belong to him,” Paul assured, whispering back into Daryl’s ear. “You fucked me so good this morning. I can’t wait to be inside you tonight. Get the hot tub ready.” Daryl leaned back, nodding and smiling. Paul gave Daryl a look that spoke volumes and kissed his strapping redneck one last time before breaking away and heading over to steal Connor’s cigarette and take a drag. 

Daryl waved goodbye and went back to his truck. By the time he got back to the shop, he had a message to call Craig Nicoletti back, which he did immediately. 

“Daryl, hi!” Craig said on the line. “I wanted to let you know that the studio has approved a fleet service contract with your shop. We want to rotate ten vehicles through as soon as possible. When can we come by with the paperwork?”

“I’m here all day, man,” Daryl answered. “I will be happy to wait or come to you.”

“I am shooting a scene with Paul and Connor right now,” the director explained. “But it looks like we will be wrapping by about four today, so I am going to head back into Atlanta to have dinner with my wife and a friend of ours. I can drop it by on the way. Paul said that you have an attorney who looks over all of your business contracts. I can fax or email a copy to her as well.”

“Yeah! That’d be great, man,” said Daryl. “Her name is Andrea Holt. I’ll text you her email. This number okay?”

“Yes, perfect. Thanks again, Daryl! You’re saving us a ton,” Craig declared. 

“Now you can make even more gross zombies,” Daryl said. 

Craig laughed. “Absolutely! Thanks again, Daryl! I gotta run, but I’m really happy that you were able to make this happen for us.”

“Not a problem, Craig,” replied Daryl. “Good to be doing business with you. I’ll send this right now.”

They finished the call, and Daryl, good to his word, immediately texted his lawyer’s email to Craig’s number, then he called Andrea’s office to give her a heads-up. Just after 5:00 PM, Daryl was finishing up signing some receipts in his office when he felt the strong, loving hands of his perfect man, grip his massive shoulder and begin to knead them. 

“Mmm,” Daryl moaned. “I’m gonna give you two hours to stop that. Can you get under my right shoulder blade, baby?” Paul adjusted his hands to concentrate the ministrations. “Oh god _damn_! Paul, that’s so good.” He turned back to look over his shoulder at his beautiful actor. “Hey, why don’t you lock that door, and you can work on my—oh shit! Shane. Uh, hey man.” 

Shane Walsh was leaning on the door frame, his smile all-knowing as he gave a wink back at the pair. “I’m gonna get out of your way so you two can break out the motor oil and jumper cables, or ‘turn your rotors,’ or whatever euphemism you use when you fuck in the boss’s office at work. Just wanted to make sure our VIP got here unmolested by his fans. After all, that’s your job. Right, Daryl?”

“Damn right,” Daryl said hugging Paul close until Shane’s words hit home. “Whoa, _what_?”

Shane sighed. “Yeah. It seems that some overzealous fans on a tour inside the set got a bit too rambunctious with several of the stars who were leaving for the day,” Shane explained as he nodded toward Paul. “Our newest family member was almost mobbed. One guy got bit, another tackled and his jacket torn.”

“But, you’ll be pleased to know that I called the department, and Rick, Shane, and Tara came out to handle things,” Paul placated, stealing Daryl’s thunder. 

“The fuck, man?” Daryl snorted. “What the hell kinda half-ass security they got for y’all out there? Who got bit?”

“Connor,” said Paul. “Andy, got tackled and threw away his jacket to get away.”

“You okay?” Daryl asked, his voice full of concern. 

“Hell yeah,” Paul assured. 

Daryl gave the Dixon stare, clearly expecting more of an answer. Paul huffed and laugh and shook his head. 

“Let’s just say I sort of redirected the momentum of the lady who tried to jump me like a face-hugger from _Alien_. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I _really_ didn’t want her to hurt me,” Paul said, a wicked grin on his face and his eyes sparkling as he rocked back and forth on his feet.

“When I found her, she was covered in mud, holding up her over-strained halter top, and looking for her other flip flop in the mud hole on the side of the road, clearly high as a pine tree,” said Shane. “Good thing you didn’t let her catch you.” He looked over at Daryl. “She was built like a center for the Falcons.”

“Are Connor and Andy okay?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah,” Paul answered. “The studio legal rep read these guys the riot act, talking assault charges, attempted murder—scared these guys shitless. Connor and Andy thought it was funny in retrospect, but it had been kinda scary at first.”

“If you had pressed charges, Tara was ready to throw the whole lot of ‘em in a hole and lose the key,” said Shane, rubbing the back of his head with his right hand, a gesture that never failed to be a “tell” of his; it usually denoted serious concern or annoyance. 

“So why the escort?” Daryl asked.

“Paparazzi outside the gates were all over it,” Paul answered. 

“Standing orders from our very own Sheriff Grimes, man,” Shane said. “These nosy-ass buzzards tend not to follow police escorts.”

“Thanks again, Shane,” Paul said shaking the officer’s hand. “Please tell Lori we said ‘Hi.’”

“Will do, guys,” Shane said. “I’m gonna get out of here so you can continue your board meeting.”

Daryl and Paul both chuckled at the man’s remark. After Shane headed out, Paul’s phone rang. He answered the call, spoke for a couple of seconds, then jumped up and down, yelling that “We did it!”

“What in the world?” Daryl asked, dumbfounded.

“Remember the charity donation fund we started?”

Daryl nodded. “How much were you trying to raise?”

“We wanted to raise ten million,” Paul said, bouncing around. “Daryl we made over twenty-five! We can really help some people!”

“Can we tell Coach and Lucille?” Daryl asked.

Paul nodded.

After the shop closed, Merle ran home and got his motorcycle and sidecar. He and Daryl serviced the bike and made sure everything was in good shape before cleaning up and meeting Paul, Carol, Rick, Michonne, and the kids for dinner. 

Together, the group hammered out the details of the weekend. Rick and Merle would head up with the Ride Along group; Rick planned to take some video along the way, which added to his excitement about the trek up to Helen. Carol had been gracious enough to let him use her sidecar. Sophia planned on spending the weekend with Enid, and Carl and Judith will be staying with Shane and Lori this weekend, and he was having Duane over as well to work on school projects. 

Paul told everyone the hilarious tale about the crazy fans; Daryl finally allowed himself to laugh at it. Rick told them all that he had spoken with set security, and they had agreed that an officer should be on duty in the area. 

Later, they ordered to-go dinners and rode out to Coach Negan’s. There they ended up talking for an hour and a half, just keeping them company while trying to get Ms Lucille—and Coach—to eat. They entertained them more stories about the wild fans. Paul said that Connor and Andy had warned him about how vehement the fan-base was. He admitted that until today, he really hadn’t had a true understanding of what the show’s fans were like. When they told Lucille and Coach about the fundraiser, and that she would be the first fan recipient, the pair were elated. Daryl hadn’t quite been sure what to expect; he knew Negan had a massive temper, but this news had brought relief and to the couple.

Daryl followed Paul back to the actor’s house. As soon as they got inside, Paul pulled two beers from the refrigerator while Daryl went out back and turned on the hot tub. Half an hour later, they were languishing in the warm water and strong jets rubbing each other’s feet and telling about their respective day. Daryl loved how well Paul listened—and remembered—the details of his day, even about the customers and the vehicle woes. He liked hearing about Paul’s and Connor’s prank on Andy when the actor came to watch their first kiss scene. They had planned it so that they would call out Andy’s name in error, breaking up themselves, Andy, Craig, and the entire crew for the first three takes. On the true take, they were super professional, and Craig told them it was perfect, so they got to wrap early. 

Daryl’s phone rang. He started to let it go, but Paul reminded him that their friends and family knew how much they were both working of recent and that they would only call if it were important. Daryl gave him a crooked half-smile and looked at the screen on his phone. It was Aaron. He turned off the jets, answered the phone, and put the call on speaker.

“Good evening,” said Daryl. “You’re caller ten, right here, live, and on the air with Daryl and Paul. “What’s up, man?”

“Hey, guys!” came Aaron’s voice through the speaker. “Sorry to interrupt your evening, but Eric and I wanted to share the good news.” 

“Hi!” came Eric’s voice, also on speaker phone.

“We just wanted you guys to be among the first to know,” Aaron said. “We got our approval today! Our adoption is going through. Her name is Gracie, she’s fourteen months old, and we will have her by the end of next week.” 

Paul's face lit up. “Oh wow! Congratulations! That is such great news!”

“My god, that’s excellent!” exclaimed Daryl. “I know you guys have worked at this so long and been so patient. We have to celebrate!”

“Jared is well into planning a baby shower/Welcome Home Gracie party!” said Eric. “We wanted to call so that we could try to coordinate with you guys,” Aaron said. “We know your schedules are very full right now.”

“Yeah,” Paul said. “We’re shooting the last few scenes up until the week before Thanksgiving, this weekend we’re filming with Connor, then I’ve been asked to be a grand marshal in the Pride parade in Atlanta the following Sunday, and we will be at the premier the Sunday after that. Oh, yeah! And I have two days at a convention the weekend after that, but please, please, please—you guys plan it, and I will do everything possible to get us there. I promise. We can’t wait to meet little Miss Gracie!” Daryl took a second to enjoy the look on Paul’s face. The prospect of a child being adopted by good parents. He could tell that meant a lot. “In the meantime, just let us know what we can do to help.”

“Yeah,” added Daryl. “Let me call Carol tomorrow. She may have some good ideas to help with everything.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Aaron. “Love you guys. Have a good night.”

“Back at cha, man,” Daryl said. “G’night.” They disconnected, and Daryl slipped back into the water with Paul.

After a minute of silence he asked, “You ever think about it?”

“I used to,” Paul admitted. “But I was never in the right place to be able to take care of kids. What about you?”

“Not really,” Daryl said, the bubbles playing at his scruffy, bearded chin. “Figured I shouldn’t. Thought 'cause of how I was raised I might mess ‘em up.”

Paul reached over and turned Daryl’s face to his own. “I’ve seen you with everyone’s kids. You’d make an awesome dad, because you know what not to do.”

Daryl looked down at the water frothing around Paul’s arm, then back up at the man who illuminated his world. “Something to think about, I guess.”

Paul nodded. After making out like mad, Paul rimmed his glorious boyfriend, fucking Daryl to a climax that nearly made both of them pass out. They kissed, recovered, and kissed some more. Then, they got out, and went upstairs, with Daryl making a brief stop by the freezer to grab the small container of chocolate ice cream and a spoon. 

By Friday morning, everything was set for their journey. Paul and Connor got to set very early, shot their scenes, and raced back to meet up with the camera crew, Daryl, Merle, and Rick just before 11:00 AM. On asking about them, Connor had to put the story of the wings vest into the story of the show. He also had them record a very cool scene he’d been instrumental in helping out with. 

“Hey, sexy man,” Paul said, waving Daryl over and picking up a large box. “I have something for you.” 

Daryl looked puzzled. 

“Open it up,” Paul instructed, raising a mischievous eyebrow and entertaining a knowing smile.

Daryl pulled out his pocket knife and cut the packing tape. Inside was a brand new, fully charged, AGV helmet, with an internal heads-up display and Bluetooth enabled. The glossy black exterior was stylized with iridescent silver flames only visible at certain angles. The initials D.D. were embroidered into the cool comfort lining. It was the coolest fucking gift Daryl had ever received. 

“Oh my god,” Daryl said. For a second he started to cry, then realized the cameras were on and tried to hold it back with his face buried in the crook of Paul’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Paul whispered, hugging him. “If you don’t like it, I can get you a different kind.”

“No, I fucking love it!” Daryl sobbed. “You are the best.” He kissed Paul and hugged him so hard he hefted him from the ground. 

By 1:00 PM, they were headed out, taking a scenic journey through Atlanta, up to the Big Chicken in Marietta, and through Vogel and Smithgall Woods State Parks. By the time they reached Helen, Oktoberfest was well under way. They walked through the small town, full of Bavarian replicas and pubs, enjoying everything the place had to offer—at least until the fans started recognizing Connor and Paul. 

That night, Daryl and Paul love with reckless abandon. And as promised, they broke in the vests. 

The next day, Rick was a total riot, riding along and taking video in the side car as Merle road ahead up to Tallulah Falls. They stopped at a shop where custom boots were made. Paul bought a pair for Rick, who was very moved by the gesture. Connor talked everyone into whitewater rafting in Raybun County. 

“Y’all do remember this was the setting for Deliverance, right?”

“Shut up, Merle!” quipped Daryl. “You s’posed to be holding onto Rick so he don’t fly off into the water.” 

Once they had all dried out fairly well, they headed back to take the Interstate homeward. Back in Senoia, Paul and Daryl watched some of the dailies. Daryl hated how he looked on film, but Paul assured him he was hot as fuck. They enjoyed dinner together at Connor’s restaurant and received a pleasant surprise that set call was delayed until 10:00 AM tomorrow. That resulted in the pair traveling over to crash in on Paul’s parents, who were elated to have them over for the night. After having been noisy enough to get laughter and looks from Beth and Shawn the next morning at breakfast, while still letting Hershel and Annette feel appropriately cool, Paul and Daryl headed out to catch up on their respective days.

Just before they got on their bikes, Daryl asked, “So, what’s with the boots for Rick?”

“Remember the exchange you guys had at Labor Day?”

Daryl nodded, squinting his eyes in the morning sun.

“Rick acknowledged he was wrong about us and that he’d been projecting a little baggage,” Paul explained. “The way he put it was that he ‘really stepped in it.’ I told him that we just needed to get him a new pair of boots.”

Daryl huffed a laugh and smiled. “You’re pretty fucking awesome there. You know that, right? You like my friends, you play well with my brothers—shit, even my employees like you.” He stepped in close and took Paul by the hips. “And you fucking annihilate me, and not just in bed. Ain’t never had nothing so good.” 

Paul smiled back, looked into Daryl’s deep blue eyes, and reached a hand up into Daryl’s hair, drawing him in to kiss him. 

**_“You’re the best.”_ **

Freefalling . . .


	11. Pretzel Loop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl & Paul lend a shoulder to a friend, the boys hate being apart, a stormy night at Maggie & Glenn's turns into a nerve-wracking experience, and Daryl asks Hershel a serious question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a Moose Tracks/Rocky Road/Chock-fulla-nuts kind of chapter, but life happens that way. There's also a LOT of smut in this, and I like it that way. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> Warnings: minor character death and labor/childbirth. 
> 
> P.S. Go easy--I don't know nuthin' about birthin' no babies!

“ _Yeah_ , that’s good,” Daryl whispered, his voice low and husky, his lips next to Paul’s left ear, and his body pressed up close behind his perfect partner. “Grip it _tight_. Hell yeah, that’s _perfect_ , baby. Now, when you’re ready, just breathe out, and let it happen.” Daryl’s colossal arms were wrapped around Paul’s slender waist. 

The shaft struck the target over a hundred feet away and less than half an inch from the dead center of the bullseye.

Daryl’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as he leaned his head forward over his lover’s shoulder to get a better look at the shot, not believing what had just happened. Paul lowered the Horton Scout HD 125 crossbow as he turned in Daryl’s arms to face and kiss his handsome teacher. 

“So what do you think?” asked Paul.

“I think you’re so goddamn hot. I think you are fucking awesome,” Daryl answered. “I also think you better have a hunting permit.” They continued to make out slowly now with Daryl backed up against a vast pine in the woods behind his house. His hands had found a double-handful of Paul’s glorious ass. “See what I mean about the kick?” He took a moment to suck lovingly on Paul’s bottom lip.

“Totally opposite of my .30-06,” Paul agreed, nearly breathless. “Glad I got a better grip.” The actor’s left hand had found its way to the magnificent bulge beneath his archer’s denim jeans. 

“Better stop now if we wanna be able to walk back without killer hard-ons,” Daryl groused, trying to remain practical. His crooked smile said he was ready to fuck like rabbits. That and the fact that his tongue was being sucked into Paul’s mouth at the moment.

Daryl’s phone rang, resulting in a frustrated groan from Paul as he dropped his head down to nuzzle into the crook of his glorious man’s neck.

“I was totally ready to look each other over for ticks,” came Paul’s muffled voice, eliciting a grin from the mighty mechanic. “Actually, that might be a lot of fun—well, not the having a tick bite part.”

“We can check each other any time you like,” said Daryl, laughing at Paul’s smirk and wiggling eyebrows before he answered his phone. “Yo, Rick.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, man.” He caught Paul by the chin and playfully licked those beautiful pink lips with a slow, wide pass of his tongue. “Oh, we’re out working on Paul’s aim. He’s pretty fucking good, man. Guess that means I’m a good teacher, right?” 

Paul kissed Daryl’s throat, pulled back, and started unbuttoning the hunter’s shirt. Daryl tried to playfully swat his hands away, but Paul’s reflexes were very good as he caught Daryl’s hands easily, held them up, and kissed the palms before putting them on his hips and resuming his task to open Daryl’s shirt. 

“What’s that?” Daryl asked again into the phone, clearly distracted as Paul started kissing down his chest to his stomach, around and below his navel, and down further to his lower abdomen as he knelt before his god-of-a-man. 

Suddenly Daryl knelt down, stopping Paul and catching his attention. Paul saw the look on his true love’s face. Daryl swallowed hard, his eyes were wet and his voice cracked a bit as he spoke back into the phone. “That sucks, man. When did she pass?”

_Ms Lucille._

The ride over to Coach’s place was quiet, Daryl taking comfort from Paul’s fingers interlaced with his own as he drove them down Sanctuary Road to the long, ranch-style house behind the cypress pond. They had started to stop by one of the larger grocery stores in town and pick up some food, but instead, they decided to go on over and see if they could get Coach to come out to dinner with them. Daryl was doubtful.

The Cadillac and Yukon had both been pulled out onto the packed dirt and gravel between the open garage and the workshop, joining several cars and trucks, including Rick’s official vehicle. In their place, a hearse had been backed in and left with the motor running. The hanging stain-glass windows swung slightly in the heavy breeze, coming ahead of dark clouds, and a storm front was coming in from the west. Above the pines, the sky was already dark gray; heavy thunder rolled in the distance. 

Daryl parked his truck next to Dwight’s. The pair got out and walked around the hearse to the back door, Paul taking Daryl’s hand again as they walked up and knocked. Sherry stepped into the hallway from the kitchen and opened the door for the two men. A massive Rottweiler barked and whined from behind the closed door to the utility room, clearly distressed at the mass of visitors in her home. 

“Hey,” Daryl said, stepping up and hugging Sherry who was red-nosed with tears in her eyes and a wad of tissues in her hand. 

“Hey, Daryl,” she said, then nodded to Paul. “Hey there. You must be Paul. I’m Sherry. Y’all come on in. Dwight and Rick are in the living room signing off with the Coroner and the guys from the funeral home.” 

Daryl walked in to find nearly everyone in the living room. One of the funeral home men was looking nervously at his watch. Dwight stepped over to the three of them and put an arm around Sherry as he shook hands with Daryl and Paul. Daryl couldn’t help but notice the tension in the room.

“Hey, man,” Daryl said to Dwight. “What’s going on?”

“Rick needs you,” Dwight said, his voice quiet and serious. “Coach has locked himself in the bedroom.” There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice a serious whisper. “He won’t let them take the body.”

Sherry’s hand came to her mouth, and she started to cry again, hiding her face in Dwight’s chest.

Daryl took in Dwight’s words and turned to give Paul a quick kiss. “Be right back. Would you please go check on Georgia? Girl sounds pitiful. Probably going crazy back yonder.”

“I will,” Paul promised. “Tell Coach we’re here for them.” 

Daryl nodded and turned, walked past everyone in the living room, and made his way down the long hall to where Rick was standing; his brother was holding up a hand for him to stop and stay back. 

“He was already way into a bottle of whisky when I got here. Now, he’s locked himself in there with Lucille’s body, and he’s got a gun,” Rick said, keeping his voice low. “He won’t let them have her, and he’s threatening to kill anybody who tries to take her from him.”

“Don’t talk about me like I ain’t here, Rick, you fucking prick!” Coach yelled from inside the bedroom.

“Let me talk to him,” Daryl said. 

“Nah,” Rick said, shaking his head. “He ain’t thinking right. We should wait it out.”

Daryl placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Just let me try, man.” Rick looked skeptical. “Me and Paul have been coming around here a lot since Labor Day, just making sure they both ate and had somebody to talk to other than nurses and the crew on poker nights.” 

Rick looked away, squinting down the hall back toward the people waiting in the living room. A whimpering, sixty pound Rottweiler now sat in Paul’s lap, licking at anything on him she could get at and finally quieting down enough to snuggle her huge head up under his bearded chin. Rick looked down at his feet, then tilted his head, and looked back up, sighing. “All right, but you stay to the side of that door.”

Daryl nodded and moved around him to step close to the side of the door frame. “Coach? Hey, man! It’s Daryl!” he called through the door.

There was no answer. 

“I got my ass over here, soon as I could, man,” Daryl added. “I even gave up a killer blowjob in the woods because you guys needed us.”

Rick mouthed “What are you doing?” Daryl waved him away. 

“Paul came with me. He’s back in yonder taking care of Georgia right now,” Daryl said. “I think she loves him almost as much as I do.”

“What the fuck, Daryl?” came Coach’s downtrodden voice from just the other side of the bedroom door. “They. Can’t. Have. Her.”

“It’s okay, Coach,” Daryl reassured. “I ain’t here to take her away from you. I just wanna say goodbye, if that’s okay. No tricks, I mean it.”

There was a long pause wherein Daryl and Rick just stared at each other. 

“All right,” said Coach. “But just you. Rick has to wait outside because he’s a _tricky fucker_ with a gun and a badge.”

Rick mouthed “You got ten minutes.” Daryl nodded back his understanding.

The locked clicked. Daryl held a hand to keep Rick back. He noticed his brother had actually unbuttoned the holster strap on his Colt Python. Daryl shook his head and looked back as the door opened. He was met with the business end of a .9mm Glock.

Daryl looked at the gun and returned the Dixon stare. “Really, man?”

Coach lowered the gun and opened the door enough for Daryl to come in, closing it in Rick’s face, and locking it again. Lucille’s body lay peacefully in the bed, looking as if she were in the deepest, happiest dream possible. But Daryl knew better. 

“I know you don’t wanna hear how sorry everybody is,” Daryl said. “But people say it because they don’t always know what else to say. I know it hurts. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be in here with a Glock that ain’t got no magazine in it.”

Coach shot him a sharp glare and collapsed down against the foot of the bed. Daryl sat down next to him. They waited quietly for several minutes before Coach spoke up.

“I just wanted a little more time,” the gaunt man confessed. Tears were running down his cheeks and chin. “You know we fucked like teenagers after y’all brought us home from Labor Day?”

“That’s what Lucille told Paul,” Daryl admitted.

Coach looked up with a smirk and huffed a laugh. “She did?”

Daryl nodded. “Fuck yeah, she did. She told Paul, and I quote, ‘He knocked my goddamned pussy right off the fucking hinges!’” Daryl wasn’t sure how that news was going to go over, but it was the gospel truth according to Ms Lucille.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Negan puffed. “She only cussed like that when she was drinking, on her super-good pain meds, or talking about sex in select company. You know that pretty little cocksucker of yours got all our expenses back on track with a few fucking twits or twats or snap-foos or some such shit?

Daryl shrugged. “Yeah, he’s a real pain that way.”

“Lucille and I really like it when you guys come by and visit. She really likes hearing—liked. . .” The man started to get overwhelmed. 

Daryl threw an arm around him and let him break down. “Shh. It’s okay. She still likes it when we visit. She likes it right now. She still loves you, and nobody can say you don’t love her.”

He looked up to see the door open gently and Rick and Paul walked in, Georgia coming inside with them to jump up on the bed and lay down with her head next to Lucille’s knees. Paul passed Olivia back one of her bobby pins, apparently from her hair bun.

“How?” Daryl mouthed at Paul inclining his head toward the door he’d seen Negan lock.

“Group Home 101,” his beautiful actor whispered, smiling back at him as Daryl continued to rub Coach’s back. They sat there for a few minutes letting the man grieve and process his catharsis. When he had calmed down, Daryl spoke up.

“Coach? Man, you have to let them take care of her,” Daryl said quietly, patting the man’s shoulder. “If you want it, I know I can get Eric, Jared, and Jessie to fix her hair and make-up like they did at Labor Day. Olivia, Carol, Maggie, and Ms Annette can help us make arrangements for everything. We’re here for y’all, and we ain’t going away.”

The big dog whined and coughed a pitiful bark. 

Rick squatted down on the balls of his feet and reached over to place a comforting hand upon Negan’s shoulder. Negan put his own on top of it. “Thanks, Rick. I’m—I’m really fucking sorry, man.”

“Hey now, it’s all right,” the sheriff said. “You got a lot of people in this community who love you both and care about y’all. I know today has been unimaginable. When’s the last time you ate or drank anything other than whisky?”

Negan looked at a loss to recall. Paul spoke up as he knelt down next to Daryl. 

“Coach, how about you let Daryl and me take you to get something to eat just long enough for the folks here take care of everything,” Paul suggested. “We can bring you back and let you get some rest, or you and Georgia can come stay with us tonight.”

Negan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Coach,” Paul said. “If things were reversed . . .”

Negan sighed. “I’d be a fucking pain in the ass until you did what I wanted just to shut me up. That’s how this is gonna go, huh?” He started to chuckle. “Well, fuck me running. It’s just what she’d do, too. All right. Give me ten minutes to shower up, sober up.” The man stood and started shedding clothes right there, standing naked as the day he was born, picking up his sweat pants and King County High t-shirt, and sauntering into the adjoining bathroom to start the shower and toss his clothing into the hamper. Rick sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned over and picked up the pistol from the floor. 

“Thank god,” the sheriff said, his relief palpable.

Paul coaxed Georgia back off the bed, out of the room, and back into the kitchen to find her doggie treats. Daryl pulled the bathroom door shut as the funeral home personnel came in with a gurney and carefully retrieved Ms Lucille’s body to transport it to the funeral home. 

“Did she ever say anything about a will?” Rick asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “She asked me to drop some papers off with Ryan Samuels late last month. I think it was a copy of her final wishes.”

Rick nodded back, stepped out of the way for the funeral home attendants, and placed a quick call to the lawyer. Negan stepped out of the steamy bathroom, still naked. He stopped to notice that Lucille was no longer lying in the bed, sighed heavily, and strode over to open the dresser drawer and pick out some underwear. Daryl and Rick stepped from the room to give him a moment to get ready.

“Hey, Daryl!” yelled Coach. “You can look at my dick. I won’t tell Paul.” Daryl huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “And Rick, don’t be too intimidated by how big it is,” he jibed. 

Rick just squinted and shook his head at Daryl. “Why would I be intimidated? How would he even know what I’m packing? I just saw it; it ain’t all that.” Daryl patted his brother’s shoulder. 

“Just let him be the smartass he needs to be to get through this, man,” Daryl advised. “He’s hurting, and that’s got him hiding behind old habits.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed. “You’re right.”

Negan finally walked out wearing a pair of black jeans, boots, and a clean, white t-shirt, his dark hair combed back. 

“Okay, Daryl,” Coach said. “Lead on.”

Daryl walked ahead of Rick and Negan down the hall to the living room. He looked back and saw Negan walk into the guest bedroom. Rick was watching as the man retrieved something and emerged back into the hallway. He held aloft a cream-colored, vinyl garment bag as he continued to proceed down the hall. Daryl moved ahead into the living room. Dwight stood up from where he and Sherry were seated on the sectional sofa. 

“Dwighty-boy,” said Coach, loud and boisterous. “Thank you both for coming by.”

“Man, if you need anything,” Dwight started.

“I appreciate it,” Negan replied. “But my favorite redneck and my favorite perky-ass boyfriend with the _lustrous_ fucking hair are taking me and the pooch out for some dinner and a little fresh air. If you guys would be good enough to lock up. Olivia, thank you, darlin’. Gentlemen.”

“Do you need help picking out anything for the funeral home?” Sherry asked.

Negan held up the bag by the hangers protruding from the top and shook his head, meeting Sherry’s gaze as she looked away. “Nah, I got this. Thanks though, Sherry. I appreciate everything you two have done.”

Negan handed off the bag to one of the attendants who assured everyone the funeral home would call and update with the arrangements. Georgia trotted outside and jumped up to put her front paws on his side. Coach reached down and rubbed the big dog’s head. The hearse slowly pulled away, and the tall, gaunt man sighed as the big, black and tan dog chased after it, barking her head off. “Me too, girl. Me too.”

Georgia stopped barking, but continued to watch the hearse until it passed the curve and moved out of sight onto the paved part of the road. She trotted back to the house and lay down on the door mat without another sound. The Coroner, Dwight, Sherry, Marcie, from home hospice, and Rick, said their goodbyes and left as Negan grabbed a leash for the dog. 

Olivia kissed Coach on the cheek and told everyone she was staying behind to clean up the house before heading out. Daryl had explained to Paul that she had finished her student teaching under Lucille at the high school. This past year, she had had to replace her mentor as the Home Economics teacher. 

Coach and Georgia got up into the back seat of Daryl’s super crew-cab truck as Paul and Daryl put on their seatbelts. “So, gentlemen! Where the fuck are we eating?”

Heath and Gregory had been happy to set up the private dining room at _Barrington House_ for the VIP customer at Paul’s request. He and Daryl had been there together several times, and they were on a first name basis with the owner, the head chef, Craig, and most of the staff. Not a goddamn word was said about Georgia who quieted down at Negan’s command and lay down under the table as pretty as you please. She also enjoyed the Porterhouse steak Paul ordered for her, sans bones. The rest of the evening was spent cheering up Coach in as much as was possible. Decently fed, they got the two of them back home. Olivia had waited, and the house was perfection, just the way Ms Lucille had always kept it. She headed out with Daryl and Paul and made Coach promise to call them if he needed anything. 

The evening of the viewing was tremendous. The funeral home was standing room only, and many people were surprised by the various celebrities who made the time in their shooting schedules in order to pay their respects to their hometown fan. At the funeral, Olivia and Aaron spoke about their friend, and Father Gabriel delivered a tremendous eulogy and beautiful service, both in the funeral home chapel and at the graveside service. 

When they stopped back at Coach’s place, the man spoke up as he sat in the backseat of the truck and stared out at the woods. “I had an affair with Sherry.”

No one said a word. “Way back, before Lucille got sick. Dwight knows. We beat the piss out of each other right over there by the field. It wasn’t the first time. I fucked around, thought I was all that—like I could just do and have anything I wanted. Lucille, though, she didn’t have to raise a hand to lay me out. She could pick a few words and lay me low. But even more than that, she forgave me and taught me how to forgive myself.” 

Daryl sat quietly. He glanced over at Paul who was looking at him, concern all over that beautiful face.

“I’m shit, fellas,” said Negan. “The best of me got buried in that cemetery today. I wasn’t intending to come out of that room the other day. She had Marcie hide the bullets to my pistols and rifle. Shit, she even replaced my safety razors and dropped off my buck knife over at Dwight’s. Sherry said he forgave us both, thanks to Lucille. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.” He looked over to see Daryl staring back at him in the rear view mirror. 

“Don’t worry, boys,” Negan assured. “I ain’t gonna hurt myself. Not anymore.”

“That’s good to know, Coach,” said Paul looking back over his shoulder.

Negan leaned forward and put his strong hands on each of their shoulders. “Take care of each other, and let yourself be taken care of. Be honest with each other. Fight and argue if you have to, but don’t go away mad. Clear it all out, and be thankful for finding someone who puts up with your brand of shit and all your fuck-ups. We think there will always be time, but that’s fucking horseshit. There’s never enough time. It’s something they don’t make any more of.” 

Daryl nodded and took Paul’s hand. 

“Sounds like sage advice from a real coach,” Paul said.

Negan sniffed and chuckled a bit, got out of the truck, and came up to Paul’s window as the actor rolled it down. “Did you actually give up a blowjob in the woods from him to come over here?”

Caught off guard, Daryl huffed a laugh and that irresistible smile broke over his face. Paul gave Negan and crooked smile and nodded. “Yeah, man” Daryl answered. His face was turning as red as Lucille’s Cadillac. 

“Well, shit!” Negan said, leaning back and bouncing up. “How ‘bout you boys go make up for lost time? I’m good here.” He patted the truck and headed to the back door where a Rottweiler bounced and barked, happy to see Daddy returning in his new black suit.

“Hey, Coach!” Daryl yelled. Negan turned back as he opened the door for Georgia to run out and relieve herself at the edge of the yard. “Thanksgiving this year at Merle’s! Be there, prick! And bring something other than paper plates and ice!”

Negan nodded, grinned, and flipped off the pair of them. Daryl backed the truck out and drove them to Paul’s place.

Before they even arrived home, Daryl called Merle to say he would not be in the next day. They spent that evening, all night, and well into the next morning worshipping each other. Daryl placed his calves behind Paul’s thighs and pulled his man deeper inside himself, slowly building until they came together in earth-shattering splendor. Later, Paul held Daryl’s head in his hands, lips and tongues sporting fervently, as Daryl thrust slowly, painstakingly into him before taking him with wild passion, literally fucking another release from Paul and filling him with his own. 

As they lay intertwined with each other, Daryl said, “Promise me you’ll tell me if I say or do anything that starts to fuck this up. I love you so fucking much.” The tears in his eyes were mirrored by Paul’s own.

“I love you, too, and I promise you I will always say what I feel,” Paul said, “but I need you to do the same. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading you, but I much prefer to hear it in your sexy voice.” He brushed Daryl’s hair from his eyes and kissed the tiny mole over the left side of his handsome hunter’s lip. “You make me so happy.”

“That’s how I feel too, and I promise. Always,” Daryl swore, kissing down Paul’s chest and stomach until he reached Paul’s rising member and took him into his mouth.

The next orgasm they shared was punctuated with a simultaneous declaration.

 ** _“I would die without you.”_** The ride left them in perfect hang time, together, up and away from the worries of the world.

That weekend, Daryl walked hand in hand with Paul down the red carpet in the heart of the fashion district in New York City as photographers yelled out and vied for their attention, trying to get them to look this way and that for the perfect shot. He sat with Merle, Rick, and the rest of their family in the orchestra row of Madison Square Garden as they watched the premiere of _Death Ascendant_ with 5000 other fans. He laughed out loud when Mick and Davy lost their truck to a handsome, cunning stranger and again later upon seeing Merlin standing before a naked Mick and Michelle and telling them that they should talk. He wasn’t sure if it was just him, but Daryl found himself noticing the way the shots subtly fused both Paul' and Connor’s characters into the same frame as if they belonged together; he was sure it was setting them up to be one of the most awesome fictional couples he’d ever seen on television. When they introduced him in the _Death Transcendent_ talkshow afterward, Connor rode in on the motorcycle from the show down a special track, into the arena, and down to the stage. Daryl and Merle had checked the motorcycle out backstage when they first arrived. It was a perfect evening. Later, they went with Paul and the cast to a private party for a late dinner at _The Liberty_ on 35th Street. They all took in a Broadway musical the following night and left out for Atlanta on Tuesday morning. 

Paul worked back-to-back eighteen hour days before getting home to Daryl’s place Thursday evening only to collapse down exhausted after a shower together and a slice of the Carnivore pizza Glenn had had delivered. He left the next morning to stay in Atlanta at the Omni Hotel, right next to the venue for the largest zombie-themed convention in the world. Daryl joined him at the hotel Friday night after work in order to attend the event for the final two days. The both of them found that they were completely unprepared for the experience, even though Connor and Andy had warned them multiple times.

Over 20,000 people already waited in the massive lines on the floor above inside the nearly four-million square-foot mega-venue at 8:00 AM on Saturday morning; that number would nearly triple by noon.. Daryl had never been to the Georgia World Congress Center in the heart of Atlanta. He’d seen it before when he’d visited the Georgia Aquarium to check out the whale sharks, but nothing had prepared him for the scale of this event. Tons of vendors hawking t-shirts, action figures, photos, toy weapons, outfits, special effects makeovers, zombie masks—everything a die-hard fan could possibly want stood for sale on the finished concrete floors that reflected the bright stadium lighting. To the far left, food vendors and a set of massive round tables dominated a quarter of the area. Vendors had three lane set-ups of booths, filled with show-themed merchandise. To the right, massive television screens listed photo opportunities by varying groups and stars. Impossibly long queues of people, many dressed as their favorite characters stood patiently waiting for their turns. The back area was reserved for guests; golf carts carried them back and forth from area to area along the huge venue.

Paul sat on a couple of panels and in one-on-one interviews, answering various fan questions. He signed autographs for thousands of people. In the afternoon, he went to the photo section. They had dinner together with more of the cast and guests, a few lucky contest winners, and some people who spent a ton of money to be there. Paul got paid for these events, but split his earnings with a couple of charities, just like the majority of the actors present. Daryl even got to meet a childhood favorite from a cyborg show he used to watch when he was in first grade. 

One of the fan questions got really personal, even though the moderator had asked the audience to stay away from such topics. “Hi, I’m Korri from Wilmington, North Carolina, and my question is for Paul. Okay, hi Paul."

"Hi, Korri," Paul said into his microphone as he found the speaker through the glaring stage lights.

"So Paul, we’ve been seeing you in the media with this cute guy at the premiere, and then Chris Harding mentioned it on _Death Transcendent_ after the premiere, and you were blushing, and before that at the _It Gets Better_ event in Los Angeles last month. Now, we know that love's been a little bit hard on you—no pun intended—but a lot of us are excited about this guy you’ve been seen with. So, who _is_ Daryl Dixon?”

Paul put on a poker face worthy of an Oscar and handled it graciously. “It’s a policy of mine—many of us here, actually—not to talk about my personal life in the course of my work unless, “ he paused to count off on his fingers, “One, it’s okay with my partner, and Two, it has relevance in helping a specific cause. That said, I can tell you’ve done your homework, Korri. Daryl is my boyfriend, we’re incredibly happy, he’s perfect, and that’s all I am allowed to say. I’m sorry.”

Later at dinner, Connor spoke up, “Fuck, man. They tried to drill you at that panel. I was backstage and heard that shit. Dude, you were sweet about it. I try to be, but I just say no, like Nancy Reagan or something. However, I have a question since we’re friends and all, and I love you guys to death. What’re your pet names for each other?”

Paul huffed a laugh. “Superman.”

Daryl blushed and flicked his head toward Paul. “He’s my ‘Sunshine.’”

Connor got a look of realization and a wicked grin. “Oh, man! I get it! Holy fuck! He calls you ‘Sunshine,’” he whispered, “because you make him into ‘Superman.’” Paul and Daryl smiled and blushed furiously. “That’s cool. I’m the _‘Lecken Meister._ ’” He stuck out his tongue and curled it getting guffaws from the pair of them. “I swear to god, you guys are so fucking awesome! Let’s get drunk and go on the Ferris wheel over at Centennial Park tonight.”

“Twist my arm,” said Daryl.

“We can tip out after the final signings and tell ‘em to send my groupies to Andy’s room,” joked Connor. “They’ll knock on his door half the night.” The man snickered like a kids. “That’ll teach him to put my bike on a boat in the middle of a pond with a blow-up sex doll on it.”

The remainder of weekend was exhausting. The following week was even more gruesome with Paul away overnight for four nights before he got back into Daryl’s arms, then away for a weekend in Nashville. 

“Hey,” came Daryl’s low voice through the speaker at 3:04 AM. The image on the screen of the smartphone revealed more than he knew to Paul. He looked tired, bags under his eyes. Paul could tell he had caught his beautiful boyfriend sitting up in bed, suffering through a bout of insomnia. The trips to New Jersey and Chicago had taken him away from Daryl’s side for too long. They spoke a couple of times a day, but the nights apart were agony for the both of them. The truth of the matter was that Daryl did not—could not—sleep well without Paul next to him. Paul was no better.

“You can’t sleep either, can you, Superman?” It wasn’t really a question. Paul sighed and shook his head at the display. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, Sunshine,” Daryl countered, a little smile back on his face. “You gotta take care of business. You’re out there making folks happy. I loved watching you at the convention in Atlanta.” 

“You were so patient that whole, long-as-fuck day,” Paul mused. “I can’t stand seeing you all alone in our bed.”

Daryl smiled. “You said ‘our bed,’” he clarified.

“I sure did,” declared Paul. “And when we get back home, we’re getting you a new, high-end mattress for your back.”

“All the better to fuck on,” added Daryl.

“That too, Superman,” Paul said. 

“I fucking miss you, Sunshine,” Daryl murmured. 

“Want me to sing you to sleep?” Paul asked. “It’s the least I can do for my baby from all the way up here in Nashville.”

“Yeah,” Daryl admitted. He plugged in his phone and turned off the video to just hear Paul’s angelic voice singing “Superstar.”

Paul flew Daryl up to Nashville on Saturday afternoon, paying god only knew how much, because he couldn’t bear to be apart any longer. When the weekend before Thanksgiving came, Paul took Daryl to a huge wrap party in Atlanta at the Fox Theatre. The black tie event was the perfect punctuation for what was turning out to be the most watched season of the show yet. Ratings were up, and critics were applauding. There were even whispers of awards on the wind. Daryl even got a toast from the fleet crew for saving the production and providing first rate service. 

That Sunday evening, Paul and Daryl went over to stay at Maggie and Glenn’s at long last. The remnants of the season’s last hurricane had swept up from the Gulf of Mexico and now abraded the skies and land. Much of North Georgia was under a tornado watch. Maggie looked about ready to pop, and Glenn was doting on her to the point that it was fraying her nerves. Paul and Daryl made a meal of ratatouille and grilled kabobs under the garage and opened up a jar of pickled pig’s feet to satisfy Maggie’s craving. 

The couple were happy to have the guys around. Glenn had guys to talk to and watch _Ninja Warrior_ while Maggie enjoyed having Daryl rub her back and Paul massage her sore feet and letting her cry to a romantic comedy. After dinner, the four of them filled the house with raucous laughter, and the boys deftly dodged most of Maggie’s pointed questions about their sex life. 

Maggie took some antacid before turning in around 10:00 that evening. At 2:34 AM, Daryl woke up in the guest bed. Paul was missing. He thought he might have been roused by thunder outside. Then, he heard it: Paul was calling his name from the other room. He got up groggily and made his way to the bedroom door. When he looked through the hall into the living room, he saw that Glenn was snoring still in his comfy leather chair covered by a thin blanket, one shoe hanging on his right foot. A cry from Maggie woke him up fully as Paul yelled, “Daryl! Glenn! It’s _time_!”

Glenn hopped up, tripped over his own shoe, and fell, hitting his arm on the coffee table with a resounding crack of bone. After a second of seeing stars in front of his eyes, the young man cried out in pain. Daryl looked down at his arm; it didn’t look broken, but that may only mean a clean break.

There was a flash of light and a crack of thunder that resounded like a shotgun blast. The house went pitch black. Daryl reached in his pocket and found his lighter. He helped an injured Glenn get stabilized enough to be seated on the coffee table.

“Google! _Lumos_!” said Paul, his phone’s flashlight feature activating at the _Harry Potter_ reference. “Daryl! We gotta get to a hospital!”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Maggie said, getting up off the bed. “The contractions started around 10:00, but I figured it was just the baby being restless. Everybody was having such a good time. I thought it was just a little indigestion.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Daryl comforted.

“Where’s Glenn?” Maggie asked. “Hang on, I gotta throw up” And she did, right into the trash can Paul held for her. Daryl got a damp cloth to wipe her face and mouth.

“Glenn’s had a little accident,” Daryl explained. “His arm’s broken, but I don’t think it’s too bad.”

“Shit. Well, whatever we’re gonna do, let’s do it,” grunted Maggie. “This baby is comin’ right now. This ain’t a _fucking_ drill!” Maggie’s wail cut through the house. 

Daryl tried to call 9-1-1, but got an automated message requesting him to hold and saying that ambulance services would take a minimum of one hour. 

“Fuck that,” he griped. “Get Glenn and her bag in the truck. I got Maggie.” Daryl carefully lifted Maggie up in his powerful arms as Paul helped Glenn up off the floor, being careful of his arm. 

“Hang on,” Paul said, dashing to the garage entrance to pick up Maggie’s bag and come back for Glenn. “Power’s out, no garage doors. Better to go out the front door.”

“You’re hot when you do smart thangs,” said Daryl. Maggie groaned. “Lead on!”

Paul led the way through the house and out the front door. They walked around the concrete walkway in front of the house with the storm raging around them. Wet and hurting, Maggie was loaded into the back of the crew-cab with Glenn and her bag. Daryl fired up the engine and carefully drove out onto the road. The windshield wipers were running full speed, swiping rain from the glass in a nearly futile effort. If he hadn’t rain-treated the windshield the week before, Daryl wouldn’t have been able to see at all. 

They made it to Barnesville Road, and Daryl sped up. Glen was trying to coach Maggie along in the backseat. Paul was looking between them and the road and trying to use his cell phone to call ahead to the hospital. 

Maggie and Glenn both yelled out as Daryl had to come to a quick stop, skidding sideways to keep from hitting the downed pine tree and power lines popping in the road. He started to back up. Maggie’s water broke. 

“Oh, god!” Glenn yelled.

Daryl stopped, and he and Paul got out and went to the back. Daryl looked at Paul. Paul looked at Glenn. 

“You two completed the child birthing classes at the hospital, right?” asked Paul.

“Yeah, but rule one was to get to the hospital!” Glenn cried.

“That’s not happening right now, so call Dr Carson, and keep calling until you get through,” Paul said calmly. “Maggie, what do I need to do?”

“Time to breathe. Somebody call Daddy,” Maggie said, then she started panting. “Slip off my pants and underwear!” Paul helped Maggie get her things off. Daryl kept trying to call out to somebody. He couldn’t get Carol or Rick. Tara picked up.

“Tara?” he yelled over the storm.

“Yo, what’s up, Daryl?” asked Tara.

“I can barely hear you,” Daryl said into the phone. “Talk loud and put Denise on the phone. We’re stopped on Harris Mill Rd, just west of Highway 74, and Maggie’s gone into labor! We need someone to walk us through delivering a baby.” 

Thunder clapped and Maggie cried out. “Don’t push yet,” Paul said firmly. He was sopping wet, long hair sticking to his face and neck. Daryl opened the tool box on the back of the truck and lit up a high-powered flashlight. He also dashed out and struck up two flares and a flashing caution light, dropping them about 50 yards behind the truck’s back bumper. 

When he got back, Maggie was lying back across the seat with her head in Glenn’s lap, listening to his coaching while Paul held her hand. He was listening to Denise’s voice over Daryl’s phone, following her instructions. Forty minutes later, Maggie’s contractions started in earnest and were coming much faster. Denise told them they had just picked up Dr. Carson and were on their way. In the meantime, Paul had no way to be sure, but he thought that Maggie was close. The next thing he knew, he realized he was seeing the baby begin to crown. 

“Don’t push,” Paul ordered. “Lean her up.” Daryl and Glenn helped an exhausted Maggie ease up enough to let gravity help the process.

“I gotta push!” Maggie screamed. 

“Okay, _now_! Push _hard_!” Paul yelled. “ _Push_ , Maggie!”

Maggie gritted her teeth and stifled a squeal as she strained. Paul caught the baby, and wrapped him in one of the towels from Maggie’s bag, wiping the mucus from his nose. 

Daryl and Glenn were looking wide-eyed and Maggie was crying. “How’s the baby? Paul, the baby—“ she panted. Paul turned back to face them as the sound of a crying newborn cut through the darkness.

“It’s a boy,” Paul said, biting his bottom lip and handing the baby back to Maggie. Glenn was crying and reaching over to touch the little black-haired bundle with his good arm. 

A sheriff’s cruiser pulled up behind the truck, and Denise and Tara got out and ran toward the truck with Dr. Carson. 

“We’re here!” Harlan cried, his bag in hand. The obstetrician took over from Paul. 

Daryl got out and went over to where Paul had moved to at the tailgate of the truck. Paul turned into Daryl’s chest and began to cry as he felt those huge, wonderfully familiar arms pull him in close. 

“You did it,” Daryl said, kissing Paul’s forehead as the rain started dying down to a drizzle. “I know it was scary. I was scared too.”

“I could have killed my sister and her baby,” Paul sobbed. Daryl rocked him from side to side.

“Hey! No, no, no, no, no!” he countered. “Baby, you saved them. Hell, you saved Glenn’s clumsy ass too.” He kissed Paul’s head. “Can you imagine him trying to deliver that baby in that dark house tonight with a broken arm? Shit, I thought I was gonna pass out the second that head—and stuff—came out of Maggie. It’s all right. They’re all right.” He held Paul and rocked him a while longer. “Tell you what, I’ll stick to hunting and cars, you stick to acting and martial arts, and we’ll let them handle the baby deliveries. Okay?”

Paul looked up and lost himself in those deep blue eyes. 

**_“You’re perfect.”_** The ride carried them at blinding speed. Next thing they knew, they broke their kiss to Tara and Denise telling them to follow them back to Merchant’s Lane and behind the old tobacco warehouses to get to the hospital. 

When everything was calm inside the hospital wing, Harlan and Denise told the boys that they had done the right things, and that Maggie and the baby were both in perfect health. Meanwhile, Maggie, Glenn (now in a wrist cast but still missing his right shoe), and Baby Hershel were all comfortably resting in a family room when Dr. Greene, Ms Annette, and Beth showed up. Paul and Daryl took them over to _The Mean Bean_ the minute it opened to have a celebratory breakfast.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Hershel said as the proprietor refilled the man’s coffee cup. 

“No problem!” she said. “I can’t wait to get over there and see Little Hershel! I already told Tyreese we have to get some food up to Glenn and Maggie. That hospital stuff will kill you! Good job, my friend!” Paul looked relieved. Sasha bent down do kiss him on the head before moving along to check on the next table. 

“We owe you fellas a debt of gratitude,” Hershel said. “Lord knows, if y’all hadn’t been there, this could’ve been really bad. I think He had you two where He needed you to be.”

“Speaking of which,” Ms Annette added, “we know you boys are going to have Thanksgiving with Merle and Carol, but we want y’all to think about celebrating Christmas with us.”

Paul looked at Daryl, who nodded back.

“We’d love to be with you this Christmas, Mama,” Paul said. “But I do need to tell you guys that New Year’s, and the entire week after, are already booked.”

Daryl looked surprised. “They are?”

“Yep,” Paul said. “We’re gonna put that new passport you just got to good use and celebrate Connor’s birthday with his family down in Costa Rica. He’s already bought the tickets and rented this massive house.”

Daryl exhaled a laugh. “Where the hell is Costa Rica, and what are we gonna do there?”

“It’s in Central America near the equator, right above Panama, where the continents are connected,” answered Paul. “We’re going to enjoy beautiful beaches, do some parasailing, and I’m gonna teach you how to surf. I think you’ll like it. Beach time in January.”

Daryl blinked.

“Merle said you could go,” Paul assured.

“Let’s do it,” Daryl said, and got a kiss from Paul. 

Later that evening, on his way home, Daryl drove nearly fifteen miles out of his way. The team at the detailing shop his garage used were able to make his truck like new, inside and out. Delivering a baby was definitely not like the movies and television, but he had to admit that it was as heart-warming and beautiful as it was messy, human, and gross. He turned onto Cedartown Road before cutting through on the Old Jonesboro Junction. He eased the truck down to Greene Farm and parked in front of the house. Dr Greene and Annette were sitting on the front porch with Zach and Beth, guitar in hand, picking out a tune as she helped walk her boyfriend through the events that led up to World War I, probably studying for a test. The sun was burning red as it started to sink below the horizon.

“Hey, Daryl!” Beth said, still picking at her tune.

“Hey, Beth,” Daryl intoned. His voice was low and serious as he came to a halt at the bottom of the steps and took off his cap.

“Come on in—Son, is something wrong?” the older veterinarian asked, standing up, obviously worried. His newest son didn’t just show up at his house at sunset without a reason. “Do we need to talk privately?”

Daryl shook his head and sniffed, collecting himself and blinking back tears. He was a backwoods, no-count, white-trash grease monkey, a damaged and scarred mongrel, in short—a damn Dixon.

The redneck looked down at his hat, wishing he’d scrubbed his hands better before leaving the shop. Then he shoved the thought aside and looked back up to stare directly into the patriarch’s eyes. “I wanna ask Paul to move in with me,” Daryl said.

Beth stopped picking notes. The wind chimes tinkled softly over to the side of the porch. Hershel looked down, seeing Daryl raw and unarmed in a social dynamic that was as treacherous to him as running through that make-believe world his son filmed in. 

Seeing Beth nudge Zach to get up and go, Daryl stopped them. “Nah, Beth,” he said. “Y’all ain’t got to go. You’re Paul’s family, and y’all ought to know my intentions.”

“Daryl,” Dr Greene began. “Son, we love you. We’re so happy to have you in the family. It near about busts my buttons to know that you and Paul found each other. I told Maggie I see the same thing in you and Paul that I see in her and Glenn. You’re happy, and you love one another deeply enough to sacrifice for each other. Hell, you two are making love even when you’re not making love. Anybody with one eye and half-sense can tell it. And that’s the best kind of love.” He walked down the steps and put his hands on Daryl’s shoulders. 

“Son,” the patriarch declared, “you don’t need to ask my permission, you just need to ask him.”

“Sorry,” Daryl said. “But I wasn’t quite finished yet.”

Hershel tilted his head, then realization hit him. Annette and Beth gasped.

“Hershel, I want to spend the rest of my _life_ with Paul, if he’ll have me,” Daryl admitted, tears were starting to fall. “I came over here tonight to ask your permission to ask your son to marry me.”

“Son,” Hershel said. “You’ve had it. In fact, you’ve had it long before you helped save my daughter and deliver my grandson. You’ve had it from the moment you and your brother saved my youngest daughter’s life one rainy night. You’ve had it since the day you met that lonely son of ours and made him appreciate being back here. You’ve had it since the day you made him smile and believe in true love again after having been burned so badly. You’ve had it since the moment we talked outside that restaurant. You’ve _always_ been tall enough, Daryl.” 

The next thing Daryl knew, he was being hugged and cried upon by every member of the Greene family, even Otis and Patricia—who’d come in from checking the horses in the corral and caught the end of the conversation—and Zach. “So strap in, son,” Hershel advised. “You’re about to start a-whole-nother thrill ride.”

“I don’t know exactly when it will happen,” Daryl explained, wiping his face. “But I want to be ready.”

“You’ll know when,” Annette assured him, patting his cheek and smiling the motherly cure-all Daryl had been missing for over thirty years.

Everyone promised to keep this information close to the chest. Daryl even called Maggie and Glenn at the hospital to tell them. They were ecstatic to say the very least. Finally, Daryl called Paul on his way home to let him know he was almost there. Paul said he was putting the shrimp on and to hurry. Paul had made a delectable meal of shrimp and grits. After dinner, he rubbed Daryl’s back and feet as they lay together in bed and fell into carb-comas while watching television. 

Just after 1:30 in the morning, Daryl woke up hard as a rock and horned as fuck. The pair had awakened long enough to shed their clothing completely and climb under the covers. Now, Daryl lay pressed up behind Paul. He leaned in and kissed the back of Paul’s neck and shoulders as he reached a strong hand around to run a finger over and around Paul’s right nipple. 

“Mmm,” came Paul’s moan.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Daryl whispered in Paul’s ear. “Is this okay?” His hand ran down Paul’s stomach and abdomen. Daryl felt his chest swell with pride when Paul took him by the wrist and pushed his hand down to his cock, already getting long and hard. He felt Paul shift, rubbing the crack of his ass against the underside of Daryl’s enormous cock. Then he opened his thighs to give his brawny mechanic more access, letting Daryl slide his huge length across his perineum, the both of them quivering with anticipation. “I need to be inside you.”

“I’m all yours,” Paul whispered back. “Get in me.”

Daryl kicked off the covers, turned Paul down on his stomach, and slid down behind him, kissing his way to the globes of Paul’s ass. He put his hands under Paul’s hips and curled them up so his hands could grip that tight ass and open it for his tongue. He spent nearly half an hour tantalizing Paul’s twitching hole until his perfect man turned and pulled some magic ninja move, putting Daryl on his back. Panting, Paul twisted to grab the bottle of lube and dispensed a more than generous portion down Daryl’s huge, dripping shaft, working it lovingly as he straddled Daryl’s hips, aligned his waiting rosebud, and sunk down slowly onto the long, thick column, feeling himself filled completely by the most wonderful man in the universe.

Paul began to ride Daryl for dear life, his own cock bouncing and slapping against his hunter’s belly. Drops and strands of pre-come landed on Daryl’s stomach. Paul leaned in and took Daryl’s mouth, sucking on his upper lip and inviting Daryl’s tongue to play with his own. Daryl sat up and placed Paul down on his left side, holding up one of his legs and re-entering him, fucking him in long smooth thrusts. The big man stroked and teased Paul’s steely phallus. Daryl tried to bend and take the glistening cockhead in his mouth, but the position was far too uncomfortable to maintain. Paul told him he was so close already and to keep fucking him harder. Daryl acquiesced. He’d been worried early on about being too rough with Paul, but his man had showed him he loved Daryl being rough and forceful or slow and tender. Daryl pulled Paul’s leg’s up onto his shoulders and began to fuck Paul hard and deep. Paul pulled him down to shove his tongue in Daryl’s mouth and suck at his lips. Paul sucked in a breath and his whine turned into a guttural cry as Daryl felt him shooting his load between them, and begging Daryl to come inside him. Again, Daryl fulfilled Paul’s every wish, erupting inside his perfect partner and seeing god. 

**_“You happy, baby?”_** They kissed deeply as the ride looped.

“That was amazing!” Paul panted.

“Oh, it ain’t over,” Daryl declared. “I gotta have you in me.”

Daryl leaned over Paul, kissing and stroking him through their oversensitivity until they were both ready again. He reached for the bottle of lube, slicked up Paul’s huge cock, and lay back as he pulled his man onto his back, lining Paul's cock with his entrance, being filled with glorious heat.

Paul kissed against the scars on his back, soothing them and giving Daryl the fulfillment he needed. Daryl felt electrified. He raised his ass up and pushed back to meet Paul’s thrusts, the both of them panting and slick with sweat. Paul withdrew, got up from the bed, and hastily drew Daryl with him to the sliding glass door of the bedroom balcony. It was beaded with condensation from the air vent and the heat of their exertions. Daryl put his hands on the window and pressed his ass back against Paul as his beautiful partner entered him again and began to slowly, affectionately make love to him. Daryl’s legs were turning to jelly minutes later. It was miraculous. 

“I’m so close,” Paul panted, his chest bent over and up against Daryl’s back as he thrust faster, adjusting his entry. “You feel so good inside. You like my cock in you? Ready for me to come inside you?”

“You’re gonna make me come, Paul!” Daryl exclaimed, unable to speak without shuddering. “Yeah! Yeah! Just like that! I’m gonna—oh fuck, Paul! Ah! Ah!!! _Ahh!!! Ahh!!! Ahhh!!!_ ”

Paul bit his shoulder and pulled at Daryl’s hair. Daryl spilled over as he cried out and blasted his seed against the glass door. Feeling Daryl’s spasms, seeing his come splatter on the glass, just knowing he’d brought his perfect god-of-a-man to that level of pleasure pushed Paul over the line. The gorgeous actor cried out and released into Daryl. Finally, Paul slowed his thrusts, then the two of them sank to their knees. 

They held each other in the dark, exchanging adorations and telling each how the other set him aflame. They mused at the huge handprints Daryl had made in the condensate on the glass. Paul got Daryl back to bed, went to retrieve soapy cloths, and came back to lovingly clean him up. Once they were back in bed, they slept soundly. Daryl had even turned off the alarm and decided they should skip the gym that morning, and the pair languished in their quiet intimacy.

. . . until the doorbell rang. 

Daryl kissed Paul and said, “Stay here.” He hopped out of bed, grabbed a pair of sleep pants, and sauntered down the stairs to the front door as the doorbell rang yet again. 

“Coming!” he yelled.

Daryl opened the front door. The sky was bright and blue on this chilly November morning with the frost still on the ground. Two women in stood there on the front porch, buzzing with excitement.

“Hi! Good morning!” called the first. She was a blonde with plump, rosy cheeks and a smile full of teeth.

“Mornin’,” Daryl nodded, leaning against the door frame. “Can I help you ladies? I don’t reckon you’re out selling make-up or cookware, and we don’t qualify to be Jehovah’s Witnesses, although we do occasionally attend the Second Episcopal Congregation with Father Stokes. They're affirming.” He was trying to cut off the possible reasons for these two to be at Paul’s place at 8:08 in the morning. He tried to keep a sweet face.

“I’m Jeanie and this is Gretchen,” she explained, extending her hand. Daryl shook it politely, then the next woman’s as well as Jeanie went on, “AKA ‘StalkingPaul’ and ‘Merlins_Our_Man” on Twitter and YouTube. Are we at the right house? You’re Daryl, right?”

“OH MY GOD! THERE HE IS!!!” squealed Gretchen, hopping from one foot to the other as if she were about to wet herself. “AND HE'S _SHIRTLESS_!!!” To say that her voice was high-pitched, was inconsiderate to the agony of dogs for miles around. 

Paul had come down to see what was going on, and stood just behind Daryl. “Oh god,” he sighed under his breath and put on a kind smile. Daryl heard it, but he was certain that the crazed fans did not. 

“Hi, Jeanie!” Paul said, waving. “Hi, Gretchen!”

Both ladies tried to dart inside, but Daryl stepped in the way. 

“Whoa, whoa!” said Daryl, his mouth a straight line of determination, his chest an impassable wall.

“Oh, Jeanie! It’s true!” said Gretchen, clapping her gloved hands together. “He’s so _protective_! I think I’m gonna cry!”

“And _hot_! Oh, Paul, you deserve some happiness, hon!” agreed Jeanie.

Daryl exchanged a glance with his beautiful actor. Paul looked back at the ladies and said, “We really have a full day happening as we get ready to celebrate Thanksgiving with our families, but would you ladies like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Daryl gave Paul a look of utter incredulity. Paul spoke softly, explaining, "They're sweet and harmless. I did a phone interview for Jeanie and signed autographs for both of them at a Heisenberg panel last year." Daryl clearly didn't like it, and his scowl was firmly fixed. "Please, this way, ladies."

“OH MY GOD!!!! COFFEE WITH PAUL!!!!” Gretchen’s squealing voice could crack glass.

“Please, come in,” Paul said. “This way.” 

Paul led them to the kitchen, turned on the coffee maker, and dashed upstairs to get dressed while Daryl leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his huge chest and watched the two ladies, making sure they were comfortable and not in the clothes hamper stealing dirty gym shorts or some such shit. They were engaged in their social media at the moment. 

“Y’all mind if I ask you not to post any pictures of me or Paul without asking first?” Daryl posed as he lifted himself to sit on the counter while the coffee maker dripped along.

“Oh, of course not!” declared Jeanie. “We want to respect your privacy, unlike some of the other posts out there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Daryl. 

“Oh, well—you see—“ Gretchen started, pulling up something on her phone.

“Ladies,” Paul said, walking back in fully clothed and pulling out cups from the cupboard. “Cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please!” said Jeanie.

“Just sugar for me, thank you,” said Gretchen.

Daryl poured the cups as Paul got the Half-and-Half from the refrigerator. They brought the cups over to where the women were seated at the kitchen table. When they sat down, Daryl continued.

“Jeanie,” the handsome mechanic said. “You were saying something about disrespectful fans.”

Paul glanced at Daryl and stifled a smile. Daryl was looking at these intruders with the patented Dixon glare. It was working.

“Oh, shit,” Gretchen said. “Now we’re the out-of-control idiots, Jeanie.” She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. 

“Well, the reason we've been so pushy is that we wanted to clear up some stuff,” Jeanie explained. 

Paul and Daryl looked at each other again. “What stuff?” Daryl asked, his voice a little sharper than he meant for it to be.

“Here,” Jeanie said. 

She reached into her bag, pulled out her tablet, and pulled up pictures from a couple of fan and tabloid sites. There were pictures of Paul and Daryl. Intimate pictures. Very intimate.

“We found out where you lived and drove all the way from Pennsylvania,” Jeanie said, and nodded to Gretchen, “and New Jersey just to let you know that we were not perpetuating all this. Our fan sites and media are meant to promote, not to defame." 

Daryl’s face grew red with rage. “S’cuse me,” he said, rising from the table, stalking through the house, and heading upstairs to take a shower.

He had his head under the spray when he felt a gust of cool air and his perfect partner’s arms surrounded him. “They’re gone. We took some selfies, and they left happy. Daddy always says ‘Forgiveness takes more strength than anger.’ They didn’t mean any harm; in a way, they thought they were helping,” said Paul, kissing Daryl’s scars and tracing the tattoo on his right shoulder blade. “I called Dante and Victor. They’re tracing the posts, wiping them out, and filing suits on our behalf.”

“I don’t care if anybody sees us fucking,” Daryl intoned. “Shit, we could fuck each other on my Mama’s shitty kitchen table in the middle of Sunday dinner, and I’d be damn proud of it.” 

“Me too,” said Paul.

 ** _“I ain’t ashamed of you.”_** The pretzel loop made their hearts fall deeper.

Daryl picked Paul up, holding a double-handful of that spectacular ass. “We need more security,” Daryl declared.

“Oh, I'm moving; that's definitely happening. Connor's had to move three times already, but so you know: I never feel safer than when I’m with you,” Paul assured. “By the way, Madison and Victor advise all the projects I work on that I will _not_ be made to hide who I am. I can’t be one of those performers who’s forced to pretend and hide in the closet.” Daryl looked at him hard. “And, yes, we need some better security. Which means, I need to call Lori Walsh to look for a new place that goes right along with said increased security and isn’t stuck in the ‘90s.” He kissed Daryl. “No more morning visitors—at least not until they find me again. We also need to increase _your_ home security. One of the pictures was of us in the hammock.”

“I see one of these sonsabitches on my property, he gets an arrow in his ass,” Daryl huffed. 

They finished their coffee, took a shower together, and got dressed. Paul drove Daryl’s truck to take him to the best hunting trails on Dr Greene’s property. They checked out the deer stand and made sure everything was in good condition for the next day’s hunt. Daryl even told Paul he could use the crossbow if he liked. 

He got the hottest blowjob of his life right there in the woods.


	12. Helix Ascension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of hunting season and Thanksgiving have arrived. The boys express their thanks, spend time with family, and get an unexpected confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunting scene and dressing of animal carcasses is discussed but not detailed in gruesome terms, just realistic ones. There is also a LOT of smut. These boys are horny as fuck! Also, Coach Negan will be opening his mouth, so sailors beware. 
> 
> Apologies for the delay, but writing and revisions/edits take time. I really enjoy your comments, so thank you all!
> 
> XOXO  
> <3

Paul roused slightly, feeling the tops of Daryl’s warm feet and toes rubbing ever so carefully against the soles of his own, trying to wake him without actually tickling. He knew it was still early, but the couple had some rather big and busy days ahead of them. Paul twisted a bit and shifted back slightly, luxuriating in the sensation of Daryl’s solid, powerful form up against him, one muscular arm around Paul’s waist. The other was tucked comfortably under Paul’s pillow. Paul peeked over at the digital clock on the bedside table; it was almost 5:00 AM, and they had a date with a deer stand. Daryl’s soft kisses along the line of his shoulder let him know his awesome redneck was very much awake.

“Mmm,” Paul moaned approvingly, reaching back over his shoulder to run his fingers through his handsome man’s tresses. “Good morning, Superman.”

“Hey, Sunshine,” Daryl replied, kissing just under Paul’s left ear, beard scratching softly. He felt Daryl’s strong hand as he started rubbing Paul’s chest, fingers making slow circles between the pectorals. “I know you’re sleepy, but we gotta get up if we’re gonna get us a buck before Rick and them.” 

Paul took in a full, energizing breath through his nose and eased himself around to face Daryl. He could barely make out his strapping mechanic’s features, but he knew them by heart. He reached up his hand and traced a finger from Daryl’s temple, to this throat, and on down to his chest.

“You still excited about goin’ huntin’ with me?” Daryl asked. Paul could tell he was smiling that adorable, crooked smile. He had one of his own for Daryl.

“You could tell me we were going to read the phonebook to each other, and I would be excited,” Paul answered. “My life with you is a never-ending adventure, Daryl Dixon. The woods of Georgia are just another backdrop, and you’re my star.”

“Co-star,” Daryl corrected. “We get equal billing in this actor’s union.”

Paul huffed a laugh. “We can hammer out the details together.” His double-meaning didn't go missed.

“That sounds like a plan,” Daryl whispered, finding Paul’s right nipple and pinching it affectionately. They felt each other’s heartbeats in the shared silence. Daryl sighed in minor frustration. It was a sound Paul had come to know when his man regretted not having done something. “I should have woken you up a little earlier to see if you minded,” the big man confessed, shaking his head. “I don’t like getting you all riled up and startin’ somethin’ we don’t get to finish. Ain’t fair to either one of us—“

The kiss cut him off, the worry scattering like leaves before the wind. Paul sat up and clicked on the lamp on the nightstand; his handsome boyfriend sat up in bed with him. Paul reached over and gently lifted Daryl’s face to meet his own. Daryl found the most understanding expression on the most divine face he’d ever seen.

“I’ve _never_ felt so loved before,” Paul confirmed. The beautiful young man made each of his next words very clear. “I’m. _Yours_. Anytime you want me: morning, noon, or night. I have never needed _anyone_ the way I need you.” He brushed his thumb along Daryl’s cheek. “You’re always a gentleman—even when you and I turn into the most gutter-ridden, filthy man-sluts imaginable, and you know me likey very much!”

That got a crooked grin from the cute redneck.

“You’re still the sexiest man in the universe,” Paul said, his voice soft, his words clear, full of truth and caring. Their fingers interlaced automatically. “You never let me down, and you always leave me breathless and thoroughly satisfied. Okay?”

Daryl looked back at Paul and nodded. “Okay,” he murmured. Paul started to move, but it was Daryl who caught his head, and turned it back to face him, the look on the brawny mechanic’s face full of desire. “But this ain’t finished by a long shot.”

“Nope,” confirmed Paul, his ensuing grin full of delight. “That’s why you’re the master of foreplay. It’s why you make me come so much.”

“Pfft,” Daryl huffed. “I just—wait, I do?“

“Shh,” Paul hushed, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the beauty mark above the left corner of Daryl’s mouth. “You know good and damn well you do. Now, take the compliment, Superman.”

Daryl looked down for a second then back up, blushing a bit and nodding. 

“I know the hunting rules: no artificial fragrances and we shouldn’t shower till later; but we’re brushing our teeth,” Paul declared.

Daryl raised his head and squinted back shrewdly. “You reckon we’re gonna be able to watch the woods and make out?”

“Oh, _hell_ yeah! I have faith in us,” said Paul, smiling wide. “Let’s get going!”

An hour later, the duo were decked out in hunting gear complete with bright orange safety vests; Paul had even added a dark gray knitted beanie much to Daryl’s surprise. Daryl followed him out into the near freezing woods toward the deer stand on Dr Greene’s property. They brought along a large thermal blanket and a thick-padded sleeping bag to place underneath themselves, thanks to Paul’s keen mind for details. 

After they climbed up the fifteen feet to reach the trapdoor to the platform, Paul quietly swept away some fallen leaves and pine straw, then lay out the padding. Just before they started to lie down on the sleeping bag, Daryl reached over and pulled Paul close. Paul looked back slightly confused until Daryl took his beautiful boyfriend’s rifle for himself and replaced it with his crossbow in Paul’s hands and leaned his head in close. 

“How ya like the foreplay now, Sunshine?” Daryl asked, his lips next to Paul’s, whiskers brushing softly, his voice a deep and lust-filled growl.

The archer hit his mark as Paul’s skin broke into gooseflesh. The handsome actor nodded his approval, a leer of perfect bedroom eyes flashing at Daryl just before Paul rose up on his toes, leaned in, and slotted their mouths together. Paul could barely contain his delight at the groan he produced from his hunk of a mechanic, the reciprocation burning through Daryl’s tongue as it entered his mouth. They broke the kiss slowly, almost painfully. They quietly adjusted the sleeping bag, and knelt down on it, Daryl checking the rifle and loading the chamber, while Paul set his foot in the cocking stirrup, pulled and set the string, and loaded the arrow. They carefully and quietly sat the weapons down before they lowered themselves and settled in, lying on their stomachs.

Daryl reached back and pulled up the camouflage-patterned thermal blanket. They remained as quiet as possible while they waited and watched over the next hour through the silent, misty woods in the cool gray of dawn. After a few minutes, Paul leaned over to rest his head gently on Daryl’s solid left shoulder. He felt Daryl turn his head to face him when he felt Paul’s hand make its way up under his handsome hunter’s hunting jacket, flannel shirt, and thermal t-shirt. Using his index finger, Paul spelled out letters on Daryl’s skin; his handsome hunter spelled them out in his head, then caught Paul’s eye and mouthed back “I love you too.” Paul’s happy little smile made Daryl’s heart pump faster. Unable to resist any longer, Daryl bent his head over and sucked Paul’s lower lip into his mouth over and over for the next few minutes. 

“Mmm. Your lips feel so goddamn good,” moaned Daryl quietly as he could, gently brushing his own lips against Paul’s.

There was rustling from the brush. Both men froze in place, staring directly into each other’s eyes. Paul arched an eyebrow and tilted his head toward the access trail through the woods. Daryl turned his head slowly. Nearly one hundred yards away, a buck stepped boldly from the woods to stand on the trail. It stopped to lower its head and sniff the forest floor, looking for something to eat in the clear area. Daryl quietly brought up the rifle and peered down the sight. Paul was still as a statue, holding his breath to prevent it from steaming. Daryl turned off the safety and exhaled.

The deer suddenly looked up. Several birds called out and took flight in instant response to the thunderous report of the rifle shot. The buck lay dead on the trail. Daryl took aim again, just in case he might have missed a clean kill.

“You got him!” said Paul, tossing back the blanket and getting to his knees.

Daryl flipped the safety back on, and grunted as he got back to a kneeling position, looking over at Paul. He tried not to be smug about it, but the crooked smile was unavoidable. They folded up their gear, slung their weapons, and climbed back down carefully. 

Daryl opened the back seat and put Paul’s rifle inside the cab of the truck while Paul stepped to the back of the cargo bed, lowered, the tailgate, and unfurled the plastic tarp Daryl had brought along for the kill to lie upon while in transit. Paul looked up to see Daryl walking beyond the truck toward the buck.

“Hey!” he called. “Wait up, hot stuff!”

Daryl looked back with that crooked grin and winked. “Hurry up, slow-poke!”

“I’m gonna slow-poke you— **DARYL!!!** ”

The black and gray shape burst from the brush at full speed, its war-cry a blood-curdling squeal like the screech of tortured metal as it came bearing down upon the hunter. Daryl’s Bowie knife was in his hand in an instant as he tried to guess which way to jump from the nearly five-inch tusks protruding menacingly from the wild boar’s snout. He heard Paul scream his name again as he set himself to jump left. The beast dropped, collapsing down on its right side, sliding to a stop on the matted pine straw, and expiring with a final grunt. Daryl blinked and breathed out as he saw the fluorescent orange and yellow fletchings at the end of the black shaft now protruding from above the beast’s left eye socket. 

He looked back at his man. Paul was standing in front of the truck, eyes hard and determined, breathing heavily as he lowered the crossbow. Daryl turned and quickly crossed the distance to his beloved. Paul grabbed him, and the pair hugged fiercely. They gave each other a quick once over to make sure neither was injured. Once they were satisfied that they were indeed okay, the pair burst out into a fit of post-stress laughter. It was then that they noted the state of themselves, weapons still in hand. They looked into each other’s eyes, and the words that came next were a bolt of lightning.

 ** _“You’re so fucking hot!”_** Their weapons were abandoned to gravity as the ride carried the duo into a never-ending hang-time, leaving the world far behind. 

“You okay, Superman?” Paul asked Daryl when they finally came up for air. 

Daryl smiled and nodded back. “Ain’t no Kryptonite around me,” he reassured. “My Sunshine kept me safe and strong. C’mon.” Daryl kissed the top of Paul’s beanie. “Let’s get back to your Daddy’s place.” 

Weapons stowed, Daryl and Paul loaded the boar and retrieved the buck—both of which were heavy as fuck—before driving along through the access trails back to Greene Farm proper. Daryl backed the truck up to the covered concrete slaughter deck behind the barn. Hershel, Otis, and Dale stood out back checking out a trailer loaded with sugarcane. Dr Greene waved to his sons as the pair got out. The older men stepped up to see what had been bagged on the hunt. Daryl and Paul handed in a ticket each for their hunting allotment. 

“Hey there, guys,” said Dale, getting a hug from Paul, then Daryl, and looking into the truck bed to check out the haul. “My god, would you look at that? Nice job, fellas!”

“Well shut my mouth! We heard a shot and figured one of y’all got something,” said Otis, hugging Daryl before hugging Paul. “And a boar with a crossbow. I’ll be damned. That’s talent.” 

“Good mornin’, my Sons,” Hershel said, hugging both gentlemen at once. “What in the world?”

“Well Paul, you can still bag a decent deer,” declared Otis.

“No doubt about that, but that fourteen-point buck right there was me,” Daryl corrected. He stepped up behind Paul, put his own arms under his man’s, and joined his hands down around Paul’s waist while resting his chin on Paul’s right shoulder. “Paul had my crossbow.”

“Say what?” Otis scoffed playfully. “Get outta here! For real?”

Daryl nodded, head still on Paul’s shoulder and enjoying their warmth as he continued his story. “I’d just killed the buck, and we got down to go get it. Like a dumbass, I put the rifle in the truck while Paul was layin’ out the tarp. I was walking on the get the buck, struttin’ my tail-feathers for my man—he looked to be over two hundred pounds, so I was gonna show off by bringing it back all by myself. I wasn’t more than thirty or so yards from the truck when that ugly sonofabitch right there,” he nodded to the boar as he continued, “decided it was time to kill a Dixon. Paul let him know otherwise. Saved my damn life.” Daryl kissed Paul’s cheek. 

“Fuck that noise!” said Paul turning in Daryl’s arms. “I just got you! Nuh-uh! Not haven’t it! No damn way some boar in the woods gets my man!” Daryl was his, and he was Daryl’s. The kiss that followed punctuated the point in stone for the onlookers.

They came up for air, and Daryl glanced at the hat on Paul’s head. He’d only shaken his head at it earlier, but he had to admit it. “Only you could make a damn beanie hat look good,” Daryl mused, kissing Paul again.

“Whoa! That explains a lot,” said Otis, nudging Hershel. “They must not have a T.V. over yonder.”

“Kids today,” said Dale, obviously joking.

Dr Greene cleared his throat. “Son, y’all might wanna get those animals dressed and in the game cooler,” Hershel advised. “At least before y’all get too distracted.”

Paul broke from Daryl, sighed happily, and respectfully responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Daryl parroted, nuzzling Paul’s ear one last time before turning his beautiful actor and slapping his ass playfully as they headed to their task.

Daryl let down the tailgate and hoisted the deer up to the hang hooks. Meanwhile, Paul gathered tubs for the entrails, grabbed paper butcher’s coverlets for himself and Daryl, and moved the ceiling wench to help lift the boar. Two rifle shots rang out from a distance. 

“Rick or Morgan,” Daryl said, then he reconsidered. “Maybe Carl and Duane.”

Once the game had hung long enough, they drained and dressed each. Daryl looked over to see Paul finishing up with expert knife skill, flipping the knife around, twirling it in his fingers deftly, and throwing it to hit the dead center of the old stump block thirty feet away. Daryl blinked twice and looked back at Hershel, his eyebrows reaching for the ceiling. The man just winked at Daryl, nodded at Paul’s back, and smiled with pride. 

“You’re Mama’s got your room all ready, if you two want to go clean up,” Hershel whispered to Paul. “Maybe catch up on some alone time.”

Paul nodded, and smiled back. “Thanks, Daddy. We just might do that.” He took off the disposable coverlet and tossed it into the burn barrel.

“By the way,” Hershel added, stepping aside with Paul and lowering his voice. “I had Otis upgrade the security and surveillance system after we had those kids try to come around cow tipping year before last. He and Patricia showed me a particular segment a few days ago.”

Paul’s eyes went wide. “Daddy, I—“

Hershel raised a hand to cut him off and allay his worries. “I just wanted you to know that so you can use good judgment. I know the Internet and that damn bunch of tabloid bastards hasn’t been too kind to my sons. If you and Daryl weren’t so serious, I’d be worried, but we’re almost as ass-over-tea kettle about him as you are. We love y’all to death,” Hershel stated with a smile and pulled Paul into a hug which was returned in kind. “In the meantime, if you get a secretive smile from your Aunt Patsy or hear Uncle Otis teasing you a little more pointedly, you’ll know why.”

“All right then,” Paul said, nodding.

“Oh, I talked him out of making Blu-Ray discs to sell at the swap meet,” Hershel joked.

Paul barked a laugh. “Thank you, sir!”

Daryl came sauntering up and tossed his blood-splattered coverlet into the burn barrel. “Just called Eugene to let him know he’s got half a boar to cook. He’s about to pee on himself, he’s so excited. What’s up?”

Before Paul or Hershel could answer, four four-wheelers came rolling out of the woods along the southwestern access trail, heading up to the barn. Rick, Duane, Carl, and Morgan rode up to park at the back deck. Each of the teen boys had a doe lying on the cargo carrier of their ATVs. Rick and Morgan were beaming with pride. 

“All right, boys,” cried Morgan. “You killed ‘em, now get those tags in to Rick and get those deer up to dress.”

“Will you make sure we don’t screw it up, Uncle Daryl?” Carl asked. 

Paul watched as Daryl bit his bottom lip and glanced over in his direction. Paul just smiled back and squatted down at the edge of the platform so as not to loom over the young men. 

“Of course we will,” Paul answered. “And we don’t want to leave out your dads. So, everybody, come get a coverlet. Got your knives?”

Carl and Duane answered that indeed they did, and they started the process with their fathers under the clear and helpful direction of Daryl and Paul. 

“Carl,” Rick said, gaining his son’s attention and keeping a smile on his face. “Do me a favor, please sir?”

“Sir?” asked Carl, stopping in his attempt to flip a knife like Paul had done.

“For now, how about we just concentrate on using the blade the right way,” Rick advised. “I would hate to have to explain to your Mama exactly how I let you lose a finger or an eye today.”

“I’d rather walk through hell’s half-acre in gasoline drawers,” said Morgan. 

“Sorry,” Paul said. “I can show you how to practice safely if your parents say it’s okay.” He thought, then added, “ _All_ your parents. Convincing them is on you, dude.” Carl nodded. 

“That goes for you too, Duane,” said Paul. The young man looked over at his father.

Morgan barked a laugh. “You’ve met your mother, right? Good luck with that.”

Once the meat was ready for processing and stored in the game cooler, the crowd of men made their way up to the house, cleaned up, and enjoyed a big breakfast courtesy of Ms Annette and Beth. Shawn had even made it downstairs, bed head and all, and he was elated to find his big brother and Daryl. Everyone heard the story of the buck and the boar again, Paul telling it with dramatic flair that had everyone in stitches, including Daryl. 

Afterward, Paul helped his mother with the kitchen. As he washed the pots, plates, and pans, he glanced through the glass windowpanes on the kitchen door, watching with a slight smile out to where Daryl leaned against a porch column, quietly smoking a cigarette with Morgan while they spoke with Rick, Dale, and the teens. 

“He’s adorable,” said Beth, taking the freshly rinsed cook pot from Paul’s hands and drying it with a towel.

“He sure is,” agreed their mother.

“Does it bother any of you when Daryl and I express affection?” Paul asked. “I admit, Daryl and I have been really caught up in this. We didn’t expect it, but here we are, and I don’t wanna have to worry about making anyone uncomfortable—”

“Oh, pumpkin,” Mrs Greene answered. “I can tell you that is not the case. We know you two will cool down a little as time goes on. 

He glanced at Beth who was behind their mother, shaking her head to refute the cooling down notion. 

“You know we would rather die than to make you feel unwelcome because of who you love. That’s not us, pumpkin. We told you that the first day you came here. Your Daddy and I couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman from the Baptist children’s home when she dropped you off and made it a point to tell us we probably didn’t want you because you were doomed to hell for being gay. If your Daddy hadn’t held my hand that day, I’d have slapped the taste right outta her mouth!”

Paul exhaled through his nose and mused at the thought of the woman getting a stinging cheek from his mother. He could not even recall the old holier-than-thou biddy’s name any longer; in his world, she no longer mattered. Success was always better revenge in his book, and with Daryl at his side, his life was more than successful. Just then, Daryl came back in, now chewing a piece of gum, and walked over to the sink to rinse his hands, kissing Ms Annette on the cheek and Beth on the nose.

Annette hugged Paul. “Your Daddy would just say use your good sense, pumpkin.”

“You’re fine,” Beth said. “After Maggie and Glenn that time—“

“At-at!” Annette chided mildly. “Let your sister keep some sense of dignity, darlin’.”

“Now, I’m intrigued,” Paul said. Beth mouthed “Tell you later” and continued drying and putting away the last of the dishes as Paul drained and washed out the sink. 

Paul left the kitchen and went back outside with Daryl to let the boys learn to fire his crossbow at a sack of corn feed. Each of them had to run out into the open field to track down bolts that missed. Rick even came out and let everyone have a chance to fire his Colt Python. Paul hit the fence post from at least thirty feet away every time he threw the hunting knife. 

That evening, they all bundled up, put on gloves, and went out to the trailer full of sugarcane. Otis hooked the huge trailer up to a tractor and drove it out to the syrup house beyond the field. Next to the small building was an old-fashioned cane mill. Once Otis had parked the trailed and chocked the wheels, he backed the tractor up to the mill and connected the power-take-off axle. When it engaged, the huge, rusty steel cogs began to turn the grooved mill rollers. Gloves on, the men fed the sugarcane into the mill a few stalks at a time. The sweet, muddy juice began to pour forth from the mill’s spout through a cloth cover into the first of three steel fifty-five gallon barrels that were connected by plumber’s conduit underneath. 

It took several hours, but they filled all three drums and two eighty-gallon boiler basins inside the building. Hershel announced that it would be could enough to let the juice stand overnight without souring, and he and Otis would begin making sugarcane syrup the following morning, starting at 6:00 AM sharp. Making syrup around Thanksgiving was a tradition at Greene Farm. 

“You don’t mind us coming back tomorrow evening to help Daddy out, do you?” Paul asked.

“Two Thanksgivings?” Daryl mused. “Carol’s cookin’. Your Mama’s cookin’. _Shit_ , twist my arm.”

“Mr and Mrs Rhee will be coming too!” Paul said. “I love her pork dumplings!”

“Speaking of food,” Daryl said. “It will be dark in a couple of hours, and we got a half a boar soaking in the cooler, so we need to head out.”

They made their goodbyes, dropped the boar off at Eugene’s, and headed back to Daryl’s He had assured Paul several times that since they were providing a boar, they were not required to bring anything else. Coffee maker set, Paul led Daryl to a hot shower followed by a relaxing massage in front of a roaring fire and some glorious oral sex that let his hunter enjoy the actor’s lips, tongue, and mouth even more. 

Afterward, Daryl had carried Paul to the bedroom and sucked his divine cock for dear life. When he’d swallowed Paul’s intense orgasm, Daryl crawled up beside his perfect man and pulled him up onto his massive chest, holding Paul safe and sound with those god-like arms and stroking through his long, silky hair. 

“You move well in the woods. Real quiet,” Daryl said, paying compliment. “And that shit with the knife? Fuck me runnin’. Today wasn’t your first time at the rodeo, that’s for damn sure. Remind me to bring you along next time I get in a knife fight.”

Paul smirked. “Let’s avoid that, shall we? As for being quiet while hunting, Daddy and Mr Otis said you couldn’t hunt if you made too much noise and scared the game. Hence, why I learned to like hunting fowl better. Plus there’s the dogs.”

“I don’t go huntin’ much with anybody else,” Daryl said, his tone introspective. “Not even Rick and Merle—I mean, we do a few times a year, but I mostly go alone.”

Paul nodded and kissed the center of Daryl’s chest. “Merle told me. He said you didn’t like it when people didn’t at least put in the effort to try to shut up and haul ass.” Paul lay still and listened to the strong heartbeat of the perfect man lying beneath him. 

**_“I like hunting with you.”_** The helix ascent of the ride made their breath catch. Neither of them got much sleep that night. The sex was slow and tender, and the words flowed unfettered and wonderful.

Around 6:00 AM, Paul carefully got up and regarded his glorious, beautiful man, still sleeping soundly on their bed and obviously enjoying his rest on the new mattress Paul had bought for them. He thought about the fact that it had taken him a little while to assure Daryl that what he had paid for the high-end mattress was well worth it and that he could easily afford it. Paul smiled to himself as he covered up the leg Daryl had stuck out from under the covers sometime late in the night. He padded quietly down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen, pausing to check the temperature on the thermostat and raising it a couple of degrees on the temporary timer setting. It had dropped below freezing outside, and the heater had kicked on again now that the cozy fire he had built to impress Daryl the evening before had died and left only a pile of black and gray ash in the fireplace. 

The coffee maker slurped heavily, nearing the end of the reservoir and beeping cheerfully to indicate that the cycle was complete. A fresh, full carafe now waited patiently. The blue, digital readout of the clock on the stove noted that it was just after 6:00 AM. Paul quietly returned to the bedroom. In his absence, Daryl had transformed the bedding into a massive cocoon. He chuckled as he found the top of his adorable redneck’s head, his hair the epitome of bed-head. Paul leaned in and tugged the covers down far enough to reveal his incredibly adorable boyfriend, placing a soft kiss on Daryl’s forehead.

Daryl slowly blinked his eyes open and huffed a tiny laugh. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” murmured Daryl, his voice thick with sleep. 

Paul brushed the hair from Daryl’s eyes and whispered, “How’s my handsome Superman in his blanket-burrito of solitude this morning? You’re like my awesome Thanksgiving cornucopia of ultra-hot manliness.”

“You know you can have all you want,” Daryl mused, a full smile now impossible to hide from his face. “But to answer your question, I’m all good.” Daryl smiled his crooked smile, shifted to get his massive arm free, pulled Paul in close, and kissed his beautiful actor deeply. “In fact, I’m better than good with you.” The actor and the mechanic stared lovingly into each other’s face, taking everything in, memorizing every detail, then they spoke.

 ** _“I love you, Sunshine/Superman.”_** The ride took off.

The next thing Paul knew, he was wrapped up and entangled with Daryl, an integral part of a loving bundle of arms and legs, sheets and comforter, luxuriating in the feeling of Daryl’s glorious body against his own: his face alive, with eyes sharp and a smile like a kid in a candy store; his chest a wall of muscle, strong and steadfast; his legs welcoming pillars to entangle with Paul's; Daryl’s sex a tribute to masculinity, now resting on his handsome actor's left hip, heavy and shrouded in its natural foreskin. 

“Can’t have my man catching a cold, running around the house naked as a jay bird,” Daryl whispered as he kissed down Paul’s jawline. “You smell awesome. Like wood smoke and Paul.

Paul chuckled. “You too. Like leather and Daryl.”

“Do I also smell coffee?” Daryl inquired.

“Mmm-hmm,” Paul moaned, finding Daryl very hard to resist right now, but he knew they had so much to do today. “What time do we have to be at Merle’s?”

“Shh,” Daryl shushed his beautiful man, kissing under Paul’s ear and nibbling the ear lobe. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til around nine or so. Carol’s got this shit down to an art form. That’s how she can throw a Thanksgiving dinner to feed sixty-some-odd people. So don’t ( _nuzzle/kiss_ ) you ( _nuzzle/kiss_ ) fret ( _nuzzle/kiss_ ) none ( _nuzzle/kiss_ ).” The colossal hunter threw off the excess covers, the heat of their bodies taking over, stopping his ministrations on Paul only long enough to make a point. “Besides, we ought to burn some extra calories if we’re going to Merle’s and your folks’ place. That’s a lotta Thanksgiving.” Daryl started kissing down Paul’s throat to his collarbone and down his chest and stomach, shifting his stance so that they could finger, rim, and suck each other off, their cocks already hard and aching for release. His amazing mechanic bought him to climax just before releasing his own seed down Paul’s throat.

The pair grabbed a quick shower, laughing, kissing, and stroking all the while. Their eyes told each other how much they were enjoying the shared time off together. After a couple of mugs of the delicious coffee, they gathered their things and made their way to leave. Paul stopped and turned to face Daryl. Wordlessly, he took Daryl’s face in his hands and kissed him for dear life, a kiss that was reciprocated in full. In an instant, clothes were shed in a heated frenzy right there in the foyer. Before the next hour was up, Paul was pounding another load deep into Daryl who was crying out, bent down over the kitchen table, his own huge cock in the throes of orgasm as it jumped and released below him, leaving proof of his satiation on the tiles below. They collapsed to the floor where Daryl had just fucked Paul silly not a half an hour before. 

“Do we have a problem?” Daryl joked.

“No,” Paul whispered, kissing his beautiful man’s beard-burned lips. “I think this is how it’s supposed to be.” Daryl’s smile made his own eyes wet.

Daryl rose to his feet, pulled Paul up, and led him back to the shower for a quick clean up. He felt Daryl’s big hands, rubbing the body wash and washcloth over his back, fingers, delving between the globes of his glutes. 

“I ain’t never been this fuckin’ horny,” Daryl said. “If I knew it wouldn’t hurt nobody’s feelings, I’d stay here and eat pancakes and fuck each other’s brains out until we can’t move no more.” 

Paul turned Daryl around, took the soapy cloth, and gave him the same intimate treatment, carefully rinsing the both of them well before turning off the water.

“I like that you make me this horny,” Paul added, his smile soft and knowing. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Daryl’s face was serious. His thumbnail was in his teeth before he could catch himself. Daryl shook his head, dropped his hand to take Paul’s waist, and knelt down before him. “I’m so horned up like this ‘cause I love you, Paul, and I ain’t never been in love before,” Daryl confessed. “Not like this.”

Paul raised the man back to his feet and looked up into those dark blue orbs. “Me neither,” Paul confirmed. “And as usual, my man is exactly right.” He caressed Daryl’s chest as he looked up, those icy blue-green eyes full of truth and adoration. “I’ve never been this sexually charged in a relationship. It’s like I’m full of lightning whenever I look at you.” Daryl leaned in and rested their foreheads together.

 ** _“I’m so glad I found you.”_** The ride went nearly off the rails.

By the time they made it to Merle’s it was just after 9:00 AM. Paul wasn’t quite sure what he had expected, but everything was in perfect order, no chaos, no kids underfoot, no massive food explosion. The kitchen was neat. To one side, casseroles sat in disposable foil pans awaiting their turn in the ovens. On the other, what he guessed was a large ham from the shape of the foil cover, sat on trivets. Meanwhile, pots of various sizes sat empty on the stove, waiting patiently for Carol to fill them and cook for the masses. Under the garage, turkeys brined away in three five-gallon buckets topped with foil covers. 

When Daryl and Paul stepped into the garage, they found Carol at a make-shift card table, setting up a tray of biscuits, a package of sausage links, and several jars of her homemade preserves and marmalade. “Hi boys!” she cried. “C’mon in! I just got the biscuits ready. Soon as the oil is hot, Merle’s gonna drop the turkeys in and cook the sausage.” Carol reconsidered her statement for a second, then amended, “How about we redefine that to ‘Merle is going to lower the turkeys gently into the frying pots?’”

Merle was running three gas cookers, each with a large, steel pot full of oil. “Hey, you slackers! Get n in here!” the elder Dixon yelled as he checked the thermometer on the cooker nearest the door. Merle got a good look at the pair as they sauntered in; he noted Daryl trying fruitlessly to hide his smile. “Oh, goddamn. I know why they’re late,” Merle griped playfully to Carol who began to giggle. 

“No later than we were,” Carol countered. “We just happened to be closer to the kitchen.”

Now it was Merle’s turn to try to hide a smile. He failed.

“Ain’t you ‘sposed to be in there makin’ some gibblet gravy or sump’n?” Merle asked. 

“Nope,” Carol said. “Mama is organized.” She winked at the boys, reached back, and squeezed a handful of Merle’s butt as she took a sip of her coffee. 

After taking the turkeys out of the brine to pat them dry, inject them with seasoning, and tuck under the wings, Merle and Daryl, apparently old pros at it, opened the garage doors slightly and carefully lowered the turkeys into the hot oil. Paul was posting videos of the entire process on his Instagram.

“Oh my god!” Paul exclaimed. “It’s been years since I’ve had deep-fried turkey.” The awesome aroma filled the air around them.

Daryl grinned back. “Merle’s the master,” he said as he was piercing sausage links onto metal hooks he and Merle had made out of old wire clothes hangers. 

Merle checked his watch. “About forty minutes left on the first one with twelve minutes between each.”

“You’re our hero, Merle!” said Paul. He watched Daryl drop the sausages into the boiling oil. A few minutes later, Sophia and Carol had joined them to eat biscuits and sausages. It was delightful. Paul and Sophia were taking pictures and videos and posting them online.

Soon thereafter, family started to show; Rick and Michonne, Morgan and Jenny, Lori and Shane, Tara and Denise, and Aaron and Eric arrived just before 11:00, and everything began to swing into high gear. Michonne had two trays of delicious-looking deviled eggs and a venison roast, courtesy of Carl. Jenny brought in four pecan pies, a peach cobbler, an apple pie, and a caramel cake. Lori brought a barbecued Boston butt roast, a seven-layer salad, and a fruit platter; she was quick to note that her new cooking class was paying off! Eugene came rolling in next with the grilled boar, and it was truly a thing of beauty. Denise’s industrial-size pan of macaroni and cheese and Tara’s squash casserole came straight from Craig’s signature recipe at _Barrington House_. Eric’s asparagus with almonds and bacon and Aaron’s towering chocolate mini-layer cake—complete with 15 thin layers. Father G came in bearing two cases of wine. Rosita and Abraham had two cheesecakes—one dark chocolate S’more, one white chocolate raspberry truffle. Nabila and Jerry arrived with a ton of freshly baked breads Nabila had been making since early that morning and multiple varieties of homemade herb butters and cheeses. Juan and Melinda Morales arrived with several casseroles, a coconut cake, three pumpkin pies, and two sweet potato pies. Caesar, T-Dog, Axel, and Patrick showed up with extra tables and chairs, setting them up under Carol’s quick direction. By the time Sasha, Bob, Tyreese, and Karen had arrived, oyster dressing, pound cake, and _Mean Bean Coffee_ grind in hand, that had pretty much rounded out the feast; at least it would have if not for the boisterous yell from the front door.

“Where the fuckety-fuck do we put this big-ass, fuck-off-size pot of Miss Olivia’s slap-your-mama chicken and dumplings and my tray of Lucille’s famous fucking ‘take-it-like-a-champ’ Cayenne candied yams?” cried Coach’s voice, followed by a guffaw of laughter. Coach had apparently made the entire fifteen-pound bag of yams he’d bought at the store before Olivia could arrive to help him scale down the recipe. 

People were cooing over baby Gracie, who immediately took to Uncle Daryl and Uncle Paul, laughing happily and gurgling at them. Sophia and Carl were helping Judith put the table decorations out on the place settings just as Carol had showed them.

Merle took up three mouth-watering, golden, deep-fried turkeys and put them under covers to rest. Just before they were ready to eat, Merle gave Daryl the keys to his bike and sent him to town for ice cream to go with the pies. “Because why not?” came Merle’s reply when Daryl asked if he thought there wasn’t already enough dessert. Daryl had shrugged, grabbed Merle’s helmet, kissed Paul, and tipped out. Once the motorcycle was down the road, the family all gathered in the kitchen with all eyes on Paul.

“Have we got everyone? Sweet! Thank you all. I asked Carol if there was anything we possibly forgot,” Paul confessed. “She said we could always use more ice cream, so Merle just sent Daryl out to get it. In the meantime, I wanted you all in here because you’re Daryl’s family—beyond Merle and Rick, you are all so very important in Daryl’s life; therefore, I need to include each of you as I have to ask something really important.” He bounced on his feet, more nervous than he’d been the first time he’d been on camera, more nervous than his first live play with a nude scene, even more nervous than when he’d first asked Daryl out that evening in a cable car high above the crowd at Six Flags. 

“Now, I know there’s a lot happening today, so I promise I will try to make this quick,” Paul said. “I just want to tell you all how thankful I am for each and every one of you here today. Coming back home has been the most unexpectedly _wonderful_ experience, and this is really the _best_ Thanksgiving ever. The holidays haven’t always been easy some of us. As most of you know, I lost my folks at a young age and was raised in the system. Holidays were what other people enjoyed; it wasn’t until I got to Greene Farm that I found out differently.” He took a breath and began to speak. “The same thing goes for relationships. It was really difficult for me to open up to people because all I knew was that they left. So the easiest thing you learn in that situation is to protect your own feelings by either rejecting others before they can reject you, or simply not letting them in too far to begin with. A therapist friend of mine thinks I went into acting so that I could find an outlet to express my inner-self without fear of rejection or abandonment. I told her it was just to show off and meet cute guys.” That got a laugh. “That said, I haven’t dated anyone since a very bad relationship a few years ago. I was too afraid and embarrassed that I had not let myself see the truth. Now, I see that the time away helped me get a few things into perspective.”

Paul looked down a second then back up and met each of the eyes around the room as he spoke. 

“I realize it happened so fast that it seems impossible, but in case it’s not already evident, I want to make it perfectly clear to each and every one of you here today that I am _hopelessly, deliriously, unapologetically_ in love with Daryl Dixon,” he declared, his eyes getting wet and shiny. “It’s now at the point where the two of us can’t sleep well when we’re not together, and I don’t mind admitting that I know what heaven is when I’m around him. I want to spend the rest of my life making him the happiest man on earth. So, if it’s alright with you, I want to ask Daryl to move in with me.” There were several gasps and cries of “Yes!” from the group. Paul went on, “And if he’s open to it, I plan to ask him to marry me. Because _he’s_ the one.”

That got a huge round of applause accompanied by approving shouts and whistles. People were starting to sniff and blink back tears here and there. Carol squeezed Merle’s arm; the big man was looking down, his lips pursed as he wiped at his eyes. Rick gave an audible exhale of relief and wiped his own eyes; Michonne kissed her husband’s cheek. Tara and Denise were mouthing confirmations and swapping fist-bumps with Aaron and Eric.

Rick stepped next to Merle and clapped a hand on his brother’s back. Merle looked up at Paul. “A few months ago,” Merle started; he had to stop for a second, a bit overcome. Rick patted his big brother’s back. Merle sniffed loudly and wiped his cheeks again before continuing. “Me and Rick were talking about how our baby brother was cut off from the world. Didn’t fuckin’ matter what we did or what we said, none of us could get him to even think about meeting someone, not me or Rick or you guys,” he said, nodding to Eric and Aaron. “Hell, he even balked whenever Michonne or Carol tried to introduce him to guys they knew. It wasn’t ‘til we had all but given up trying to help him see himself as being able to be with another guy—that he could be with a guy, and nobody was gonna see him as less, for him to know that he—“ Merle stopped to collect himself again.

“That he was _worthy_ of it,” added Carol, smiling back at Merle and wiping her own eyes. Merle nodded and looked back at Paul.

“Then, me and Rick happened to be talkin’ about all this with Maggie and Glenn and Beth at lunch one day,” Merle explained. “Your two baby sisters and your brother-in-law all got this gleam in their eyes, and they said that there might be this one chance that could save not one but _two_ solitary souls. They proceeded to tell us about you, and that you had started workin’ back here. So, we figured y’all should at least meet. I mean, what could it hurt? I’m so glad I did _one thing right_ by my baby brother.”

“Ever since that day at Six Flags—the both of you walkin’ up hand-in-hand, smilin’ at each other. We didn’t expect it, even though god knows we hoped for it, even _prayed_ for it,” Rick added, his voice cracking and choked up. “But that day, we knew that somethin’ way beyond special was happening.” He looked at Michonne, who was nodding along as the tears rolled down her face, and then back to Paul, the weight of heavy words weighing on his conscience. “I admit that I had my doubts. I had ‘em because of how fast it happened, because of my own failures, and I had ‘em because I can be way too overprotective when it comes to Daryl, but Paul, it’s clear to me and everyone else gathered here that you’re _in love_ with Daryl and he is _so in love_ with you. And every member of our family today, right here, right now, has nothing but love for the two of you.”

“I ain’t _ever_ seen my baby brother as happy as he is since you two have been together,” Merle admitted.

Many agreed out loud. Eric told them the story of Daryl’s first description of Paul. “I have _never_ seen him tongue-tied over somebody.” Aaron agreed.

Rick nodded to Merle, and the elder Dixon looked back over to Paul. “So, yeah,” Merle concluded. “You can ask him officially. As far as his family is concerned, you saved his life just as surely as you did yesterday morning with that boar Eugene’s been grilling all night.” 

“You got this, Snookums!” Carol reassured as she wiped a tear with the back of her hand.

Paul nodded a couple of times, looked up and the ceiling, and tried to blink back tears, but he could no longer hide it. He felt his face scrunch up just before two massive figures bear-hugged him. 

“Now step out back, and we’ll have the shovel talk!” drawled Shane, breaking the tension and getting laughter from the room.

“Holy shit!” Carl exclaimed to Duane and Sophia. “Uncle Daryl’s gonna get married to Jesus!”

“Language!” came the stern chorus of Rick, Michonne, Lori, and Shane. 

“Sorry,” muttered Carl.

“Young man,” Coach Negan responded, his deep, low voice carrying through the house and rising with the fire of inspiration in each word for his follow-up statement, leaning back dramatically and bouncing himself back to full height. “I believe the appropriate response we are looking for today is: _Hell! Fucking!! Yes!!!_ Your Uncle Daryl has hit the _goddamn hot-ass, big-dicked_ boyfriend lottery!!!” He threw an arm around Gabriel. “Isn’t it about _fucking_ time to bless the meal, Father?”

Father Gabriel just fought back a guffaw of laughter, wiped the strained tears from his eyes, and nodded. “And Paul, I consider you two members of my congregation, so there’s no fee for a wedding when the time comes.” Paul thanked Gabriel and continued getting hugs and word of encouragement from the folks in the room.

Outside, the rumble of Merle’s Harley could be heard. “He’s back! Go touch up your make-up or whatever. Oh, and hey! Hey! Hey! Now y’all remember—especially you blabber mouths, and y’all know who you are—no mention of this,” warned Merle. “Ain’t nobody spoiling our future brother-in-law’s moment.”

Daryl walked back inside from the garage entrance with a bag from Kroger containing two large cartons of ice cream. He stopped and looked at people’s faces. “What’s wrong?” he asked Paul. 

“Telling things we’re thankful for,” Paul said. “Can you guess what mine is?”

Daryl leaned in and rested his forehead against Paul’s. “I’ll _always_ be thankful for you, Sunshine.”

“That makes me the happiest man on earth, Superman,” Paul said quietly, his misty-blue eyes locked with Daryl’s as he ran his fingers through Daryl’s beautiful, chestnut hair.

 ** _“You’re the best.”_** It wasn’t until Carol whispered, “I’ll just put this in the freezer—so it won’t melt,” that the two realized they were kissing deeply in front of everyone right there in the kitchen. 

Daryl blushed, much to the amusement of his family. “Holy _god_!” said Lori, jaw falling open. 

“What did I tell you?” Shane asked over to Lori and Michonne. “I said them two could melt concrete,” Shane said.

“I concede,” admitted Lori. “You were not exaggerating in the least, sweetie. Should we usher out the children?”

“Uncle Darry give Jesus kissies,” Judith said, laughing and wriggling around on Sophia’s lap as the teens just rolled their eyes and sighed in unison at Lori’s inquiry.

“No wonder Shelly Neudermeyer has taken her car in three times in the last month to see if she can catch these two together again,” Olivia said. “Her two main subjects are how hot Daryl and Paul are together and whether or not she should get a free-standing pasta machine or a pasta maker attachment for her stand mixer. Although, I get why her car’s needed a lot of work now.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Relax! This ain’t no peep show,” Daryl grumbled. “Ain’t it time for the blessing? Two tons of food and people standing around paying attention to the wrong stuff.”

“I think Daryl has a point,” said Father Gabriel, raising his voice over the din. The crowd lowered their heads and quieted down until the only voice was Gracie’s gurgle. Father Gabriel led the prayer.

“Lord god,” began the pastor. “We gather here today to humbly thank you for the blessings of life, family, and love. We thank you for your providence in placing these souls together to form a family beyond the conventions of man. We ask that you keep us mindful of all the many things that we too often take for granted in this world and that you continue to guide us to a deeper strengthening of the bonds between us. We thank you and ask for your everlasting strength and comfort as we face life anew without those who have gone before us to dwell in your house. We acknowledge our limits and know that we may not understand every happening in your great design and your plan for us, but we thank you and pray for your infinite wisdom, guidance, and patience that we may know the right path to take. Now, lord, we ask that you bless this meal and those gathered to partake of it, and bless us as we serve each other daily in your name. Amen.”

The meal was phenomenal with more than plenty to spare. Even better was the company, laughing and enjoying the fellowship of the extended family. Under Carol’s house rule, people had to mingle. You couldn’t just sit in one spot and eat your thanksgiving meal, be done, and go home-everyone had to switch up now and then. Plus, you were forbidden from overloading a plate. This meant everyone had to get up every time to get more and go sit down somewhere else to talk to more people in the family. Best of all, there was no “kids’ table” to have to worry about. 

By 1:00 PM, the living room was near capacity with people watching the annual Georgia/Georgia Tech football game on television, falling out laughing at Coach’s commentary, and shouting at the screen. Lori, Carol, Michonne, and Jenny recorded Judith singing the alphabet song. Eric had put Gracie down for a nap in the guest bedroom with a baby monitor and sat in the dining room catching up with Tara and Denise. Paul had been talking with Sasha for a while and thanked her and Tyreese for the coffee, seeing as he had been having very long—but very good---days of late. When he saw Daryl talking with his employees, he excused himself to join his handsome partner. Daryl looked concerned.

“What’s up?” Paul asked. 

“Axel just told me Patrick’s gone and got himself drunk as fuck,” Daryl grumbled, stalking out into the garage with Paul right behind him.

“Well, it is a holiday,” Paul soothed. “Maybe he just doesn’t have much of a tolerance. Wait—how old is he again?”

“Oh, he’s legal,” Daryl confirmed. “He turned twenty-one back in June. But he’s fucked up as a tater tot on some moonshine Merle kept from our Daddy’s old cook house. Only thing that old fucker could do well. Shit’s older than Patrick is and hits like a fucking Mack truck. He don’t even _drink_.”

They found Patrick sitting in Carol’s greenhouse, drunk and crying right where he sat on a stack of bagged topsoil. The pungent smell of corn liquor wafted from Patrick and the Mason jar in his right hand. The lid was abandoned on the floor next to a sealing ring that had been stepped upon and warped into utter uselessness. Patrick looked up, saw the disappointment on Daryl’s face, and started to hyperventilate. The comforting hand of Paul stole Daryl’s thunder. As much as he wanted to scream in the kid’s face, to scare him into never touching a drop of whisky again, Daryl couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he tried to think of how Paul might handle it. Then, he knelt down at Patrick’s side (the better to avoid the inevitable vomit), took the half-full jar from his pliant hand, and spoke quietly. 

“Hey, man,” Daryl said quietly. “Slow down. You’re okay. What happened?”

“I’ll be right back,” Paul said, dashing back to the house.

“Talk to me, man,” Daryl coaxed. “What’s wrong?” There was a long pause where Daryl wasn’t sure if the kid was only on moonshine. Paul returned and slipped in, placing a lined trash can in front of the young man. He also gave him a bottle of water and held a cool cloth to his forehead.

“Thanks. You know, you’re _so beautiful_ ,” he said to Paul, sobbing heavily.

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “He sure is.” He let Patrick get a moment to collect himself.

“He sure is,” repeated Patrick, this time to Daryl. “I don’t think you know how beautiful he is. And he’s really nice too. S’why I can’t hate him.”

“Paul is the nicest person I know,” Daryl admitted, winking at Paul who just steadily continued to nurse his poor, drunk employee. “What’s all this about hating Paul?”

“No!” Patrick practically yelled, then hiccoughed hard. For a second, Daryl thought the young man was going to spew. “I—I don’t hate Paul. I’m stupid and (hiccough) jealous. But I can see why, I mean, he’s funny and rich and be—beautiful and hair and beautiful and probably hung too. And I bet he’s good in bed; he looks like he fucks like a wild animal.”

Paul’s brows shot up, his eyes wide as he looked back at Daryl.

_Oh shit._

“Are you trying to tell us you’re gay?” Daryl asked. 

“I think so,” Patrick said, then looked up at Paul as if the man were a completely aside conversation. “Yeah, I’m definitely gay.” He shook his head at Paul. “Lady parts do nothing for me, which is sad ‘cause I have an awesome tongue.” He stuck out his tongue at Paul. “I definitely need the ‘D.’”

“You’re preaching to the choir, baby,” Paul agreed. “Now, put that pretty, pink tongue away before it freezes like that.”

Patrick nodded and did so. Suddenly he seemed to have a moment of clarity. “Paul, _please_ don’t hate me,” Patrick said, starting to cry again. “I don’t wanna lose my job!”

“Oh, sweetie,” Paul reassured, continuing to wipe the guy’s face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Why would you lose your job?” Daryl asked, trying to understand. 

“You said to call you ‘ _Daryl_ ’ instead of Mr Dixon,” Patrick sobbed. “I know I’m not as beautiful as Paul, but I’m a real good person.”

“Of course you are—“ Daryl started but caught himself mid-sentence.

_Fucking hell._

The realization set in as Daryl and Paul locked eyes. Paul and Daryl sat down on each side of the young apprentice mechanic. 

“How long?” Daryl asked gently.

The young man just shook his head and cried. After a few minutes he said, “Since you stayed late to help me get that hydro-locked Corolla engine fixed.” He looked at Paul again as if sharing a secret to an outsider who wasn’t in the room as he whispered loudly, “But the first time was at a barbecue for the shop at his house. I thanked him and asked to shake his hand, and he looked at me with those blue eyes and strutted over, licking grease and sauce off his fingers and never looking away. And then you shook my hand, and I could smell the charcoal and the soap and the sauce and the pig and the chicken . . .”

Daryl mouthed “About a year” over Patrick’s head to Paul who just nodded his understanding. Paul mouthed back “That’s hot.” Daryl huffed a laugh. 

“I don’t feel so good,” Patrick said. Daryl quickly grabbed the trashcan up while Paul held Patrick’s head.  
Neither would have been surprised if his socks had come up. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—he didn’t eat anything at the meal. 

“Get it all out, buddy,” Paul said softly. “No more Amy Winehouse impressions for you.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Patrick slurred. “I just love you. I don’t hate you. I promise, I’ll never drink again. Daryl loves you.”

“We love you too, Patrick,” Paul assured, glancing at Daryl and nodding to the newcomers. 

Daryl twisted to look over his shoulder. Merle and T-Dog had appeared in the greenhouse doorway. Patrick continued confessing his love for Daryl until he passed out. Merle sighed heavily and T-Dog just blinked in surprise. Apparently they had been close enough to hear Patrick’s confession.

“I was afraid of this,” said Merle. “Been seeing him looking at you like a moon-eyed calf for months. I was hopin’ it was just some kinda hero-worship. Shit. Maybe, I should’ve said something to him.”

“Hey, not one word about this, okay?” Daryl asked. “Little lovesick fucker don’t need nobody else knowin’ his business. Believe me, I know first-hand. Anyone asks, he thought moonshine was a myth or some such shit.”

“Yo man, this is a quarantined subject,” T-Dog shrugged. “As for the stuff around here, we’ll handle it. We’ll even make him a plate and drop it by on the way home this afternoon. I gotta take Axel out that way anyhow.”

“Good man,” Daryl nodded. He hoisted Patrick up in a bridal carry and nodded to Paul. Paul opened the door and led the way to the truck. “We’re taking him home so he can sleep this off.”

Merle sighed again and shook his head. “He could stay here.”

Daryl shook his head. “He ain’t even gonna want to be around himself tomorrow when he wakes up with a ‘shine hangover. We got this,” Daryl said to Merle. “Go catch the rest of the game. We’ll be back.”

They carefully lay Patrick across the backseat. Paul searched Patrick’s pockets and found the young man’s keys. He had ridden with Axel in the delivery truck to help bring the extra tables and chairs, so at least they didn’t have to drive a second vehicle. 

An hour later, they returned, having tucked Patrick in his own bed. A new game was on as Daryl sat down on the sofa sectional in the living room, slumping over to rest his head on Paul’s chest while he texted Patrick, letting Paul approve the final version.

**_Thursday, 2:13 PM_ **  
_Please stay on at DBMP. You’re a good mechanic & a really hard worker. Merle and I appreciate you very much. Our store family loves you & our customers love you too. Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve been right where you are. Trust me—your ‘Paul’ is out there somewhere just waiting to find you, & he will, & it’s gonna be mindblowing. Don’t hide away. I did & I almost missed the best thing ever in my life. You are exactly who you are meant to be, & you are going to make some hot guy really happy. Paul and I care about you & your happiness. We are here if you ever need us. Always -DD_

Paul ran his hands through Daryl’s hair, rubbing his man’s scalp with his nails and watching the tension bleed away until Daryl lay back in his lap completely. Paul looked into those blue-steel eyes and made his decision.

 ** _“Move in with me.”_** The ride banked as the smiles gathered on their faces and their lips met. The world faded away. The motion was delirious, the sunlight was cheerful, and the proximity was intoxicating.

Someone had muted the television and the conversations had suddenly dried up. 

“Your place or mine,” Daryl asked.

“Yours, for now,” Paul answered. “I talked to Lori, and she wants to show me a new place she has on the market. Apparently it started a while back, but they had to stop construction when the owner went to jail for fraud—some Simon somebody person. Anyway, if you’re interested, we can have it built the way we want. An office, a studio, a big kitchen, a pool—“

“Can we get a hot tub?”

“For fuck’s sake!” cut in Coach Negan. “Did you two say yes or what? Rick’s about to have a fucking apoplectic seizure over here! Makes my steel nut sac ache.”

Everyone was quiet and waiting on the edge of their seats.

“Yes,” Daryl said. 

The house roared with delight. Eric walked back to check on Gracie who had slept through it all like a log. Hugs and kisses rained down on the couple. When they finally had a chance to get into the kitchen for some coffee and to start making their goodbyes before heading to Greene Farm, Aaron and Olivia cornered them.

“So guys,” Aaron began. “Before you head out, we have a huge favor to ask. Would you two consider being chaperones at the freshman holiday dance at the high school this Saturday? Everybody’s office holiday party is happening, and I really need some volunteers. Hell, I will even pay.”

Daryl looked like he’d rather eat earthworms. Paul smiled.

“Can we think about it?” Paul asked. “This is one of the few weekends I have off here at home before I drag Daryl off to another convention.”

“Of course,” Aaron said. “But would you let me know as soon as possible?”

Daryl nodded, then he looked over at Sophia. “Sophia! You going to the holiday dance at school?”

“Oh, yeah!” Sophia replied. “Enid and I are going. We’re trying to get Carl, Duane, and Ron to go, but they’re all swept up in that awkward boy thing.”

“We might go,” answered Duane, having heard his and Carl’s names mentioned.

“Good deal, son!” Coach Negan said, sweeping through to get to another piece of caramel cake. “You will never hit a home run if you don’t get up and swing the fucking bat!”

Duane chuckled but cut it short at Jenny’s raised eyebrow. “Yes sir, Coach!”

“Guess who else is coming to chaperone?” Olivia asked inclining her head toward Coach’s back.

Daryl sighed. “What time is the dance?” Paul asked trying not to laugh.

That evening, Paul and Daryl walked up to Dr Greene’s syrup house. Steam rolled out from under the edges of the raised tin roof. Opening the door, the sweet smell of sugarcane perfumed the air. Dr Greene and Otis stood tending two eighty-gallon boilers; each boiler pot was about five feet in diameter and sat in a raised cylindrical ring of brick and concrete about three feet off the concrete floor with six propane gas jets underneath. Inside each pot, the sweet juice they had helped to grind out the afternoon before was now boiling away, no longer a muddy liquid. Instead, it was now a roiling mass of tiny white bubbles that pushed the impurities up onto the angled edges of the pots. Dale Horvath sat watching the men walk around the boilers and wipe the rim with wet rags in order to remove the dirty foam. 

“Hey, my Sons!” Hershel called over the roaring sound of the gas burner jets. “Check that out.” He pointed to a back door. Paul stepped in with Daryl and found dozen bottle cases lining the back of the house. He opened one on the work table and held it to the light. The bottle was still very hot, and the deep, reddish-amber liquid within moved slowly.

Daryl knew nothing about sugarcane and syrup except that his Uncle Jess would bring them some to chew in the fall and that his mother had loved the syrup when they could get it. He enjoyed it better than anything at the store other than maple, and that was crazy expensive for the real thing. 

“Daryl,” said Dale. “When Erma and I were first dating, her father used to buy sugarcane syrup from you granddaddy Collins.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded, thinking back. “Uncle Jess said Granddaddy made more money off of syrup than he ever did off of moonshine.”

“How’s it look to you?” Hershel asked Paul, having stepped into the back room to join the others and closing the door to keep the steam out. 

“It’s not too cloudy,” said Paul. “But the real test will be with Mama’s biscuits.”

Hershel leaned to Daryl. “Paul could always look at a boiling of syrup and tell you when it was just right to take up and be bottled. He’s got the knack for it. The rest of us play on timing. When I started listening to him, I never made a mistake with it.”

“Daddy thinks I’d make a good farmer,” Paul said, smiling. Daryl kissed his man’s temple.

“You can do anything you put your mind to, Son,” Hershel said. “How was the crowd at Merle’s? Big day?” He opened the back door to head back and tend his boiler. The others followed.

“Yes, sir,” Daryl said. 

Hershel looked between the two. “Y’all got something you wanna tell us?”

“We’re moving in together,” Paul said. They had an arm around each other’s lower back.

“Funny thing,” Daryl said as they stepped back to keep out of Hershel’s path. “We asked each other at the same time, same exact words. We’ve been doing that a lot, but I ain’t mad at it. Everything’s right.”

“That’s good to hear!” called Otis from the other boiler. The bubbles in that pot were beginning to take on a golden tint.

“Y’all head up to the house and get ready for dinner with your Mama,” Dr Greene said. I will be there directly, and after I eat, I will come back and relieve Otis for a spell.”

“Hey, go on!” Dale called, taking the rag from Hershel. “It’s your Thanksgiving! I got this. I’ll call if there’s a problem.”

“Thank you, Dale,” Hershel said. The patriarch led the couple back out to the truck, and they rode up to the farm house. 

The news of Daryl and Paul moving in together was happily received. Maggie and Glenn introduced Hershel Paul Rhee to his Uncle Paul and Uncle Daryl. Shawn took a picture of the three of them: Daryl was leaning with his back to the kitchen counter, his head on Paul’s shoulder and looking down at the baby; Paul in Daryl’s arm’s, leaning back against him, a look of delight on his face; and Hershel in Paul’s arms, the baby struggling to keep his eyes open. They ate with the Greene family, helped Hershel take up the final two boilings of syrup, and talked with their family about holiday plans. 

When they finally got back to Daryl’s place, they put away all the leftovers they had been given, got undressed, and climbed into bed together.

“On my way out, I looked in Carol’s freezer,” Daryl said, kissing Paul’s shoulder. “She had two unopened containers of ice cream, and I know if they were in Carols’ freezer, they were still good.” Paul tried to look innocent; Daryl noted that he was doing a damn fine job. “What was going on for Merle to get me out of the house?”

“Well,” Paul explained. “Just note that it was not me who actually deceived anyone here, but I did need to let folks know I am serious about you.” Paul moved over on top of his handsome hunter and kissed Daryl’s stomach just above the navel. “Merle sent you to the store because I needed to ask if it was okay with them if I ask you to move in. I mean—they’re all family.” Paul shifted up again, resting their quickly hardening cocks together as he move his hips and reached forward to stroke Daryl’s chest.

Daryl reached up and teasingly pinched Paul’s nipples, loving how they instantly became hard and sensitive. “I talked your family last week,” the handsome hunter confessed. “I stood right there at the bottom of the porch steps,” he said, pulling Paul down and kissing into the hollow of Paul’s throat. “And I asked your Daddy ( _kiss_ ) and your Mama ( _kiss_ ) and Beth ( _kiss_ ) if I could ask you ( _kiss and slow lick_ ) about movin’ in together,” he admitted, biting his lower lip but still unable to stop smiling. “None of ‘em let on? Not even Glenn?”

“Nope,” answered Paul, who took a sharp breath at the sensations. Daryl glanced down and saw his man’s foreskin pulling back to reveal the glorious head of his cock. His own manhood was shifting straighter and pulsing with his excited heartrate. A drop of clear liquid formed at the slit of Paul’s cock, and dripped down the head and shaft and down onto Daryl’s cockhead as his own foreskin fell back. “One time he spilled the beans,” Paul said, stopping to take Daryl’s right nipple between his teeth and bite slightly; it was Daryl’s turn to suck in a hissing breath, a naughty chuckle breaking forth from the strapping redneck. Paul rose up slightly, licked the nipple with a flickering tongue, and continued. “Maggie made him promise not to, but he did.” Daryl felt Paul’s huge, hard cock, rub against his own erection. “So she put shitty chicken eggs in his favorite cap and smacked it down on his head. She can be mean. Threatened to run over his car with Daddy’s tractor.” The way he said the last word made Daryl’s hot, tight hole twitch in anticipation and his large, hard cock jumped and started leaking pre-come, matching his gorgeous boyfriend’s. "I would've pissed in it."

Daryl reached up and pulled Paul down for a scorching kiss, tongue invading and conquering Paul’s mouth. They came up together breathless with Daryl now rolling over on top of Paul. “That is so fucking _filthy_ ,” Daryl whispered, low and hot. They took each other’s face in hand, icy-blue meeting storm-blue and seeing down into each other’s hearts.

 ** _“I’m all yours.”_** The inversion loop was too intense to deny. Souls burst into white-hot flame.

Paul slid out from under Daryl and began kneading his man’s perfect, muscular ass, his fingers sliding across Daryl’s entrance. 

“Bend over,” Paul said, his voice throaty in Daryl’s right ear. “Show me what’s mine.” 

Daryl shuddered in excitement and spread his knees apart. The brawny man reached back to spread his ass wide and bent over until his face and left shoulder rested against the padded headboard, his pink rosebud vulnerable and at his perfect man’s mercy. Paul was instantly down on his back, maneuvering his head beneath Daryl’s succulent ass. Daryl’s eyes rolled up, he threw back his head; a desperate moan ripped from his gut when he felt Paul’s tongue lick up into him. He gasped as he felt Paul’s hands take hold, one working and stroking his leaking cock, one on his waist, pulling him lower to sit on his lover’s face. Paul alternated between sucking his hunter’s heavy nuts into his hot, wet mouth and furiously rimming Daryl’s fantastic hole into oblivion. Daryl could only whine and beg for release while Paul conquered him completely, and Paul was reveling in it. 

Daryl squirmed as Paul took his cock into his mouth, making Daryl throw back his head again, beg for release, and swear his undying love as loud as he could. When Paul slipped his long, middle finger up into the waiting ring of muscle, Daryl nearly lost it. By the time Paul had three fingers inside his gorgeous redneck, pressing lightly in circles on Daryl’s prostate, the string of filthy words issuing from the beautiful man amused his lover to no end; Paul redoubled his efforts, and Daryl could only groan obscenely to the ceiling, one hand in pulling Paul’s hair and the other pounding at the bedroom wall.

“Goddamnit, Paul!!! Get the fuck _inside_ me!!!” Daryl begged, his sweat and pre-come dripping onto Paul’s face. He was hard as a steel girder. “I need you to fuck me right-the-fuck _now_ , baby! Please, god, fuck me like you mean it!”

Paul slid out from under Daryl, grabbing the lube and slicking his cock well. Daryl lost his patience and grabbed at his cock, trying to get it in. Paul smacked his ass hard, massaging the stinging pop into Daryl’s right butt cheek with a playful rebuke as he kissed the scars at the top of his perfect partner’s back, nipping lightly at his shoulders and pinching hard on his left nipple.

“Slow down, Superman,” Paul commanded, his voice low and breathy. “You’re all mine right now, and I won’t let you fall.” Daryl moaned like a dog in heat, his head shaking involuntarily as Paul licked behind his right ear. Paul eased his hips forward, the head of his glorious cock penetrating the ring of muscle to get into the magnificent warmth inside. 

“You good, baby?” Paul asked when he was half inside, the widest part of his cock now entering Daryl. The beautiful hunter pushed back. 

With a growl of “Yes!” Daryl impaled himself further down on Paul’s magnificent cock and reaching up to grasp Paul’s head and pull him into a frantic kiss. They broke apart and Daryl cried out, “Fuck! Me! Hard!” 

Paul began to ease in and out of Daryl’s perfection as the hunter begged him to go faster, harder. Paul began to increase his pace. 

“Yes, god!” Daryl yelled. “Ahh—fuck! So good! So good!!! OH, GOD _DAMN_!!!”

Daryl thrust back from the headboard and pushed Paul down onto his back. Paul adjusted his entry angle as Daryl held himself up above his perfect man. Paul proceeded to piston himself into Daryl, feeling his cock rub across Daryl’s spot. He pulled Daryl’s head back to suck and lick at each other’s lips and faces as best they could. 

Daryl’s whines became frantic; Paul could feel the heat pooling in his own abdomen as his stomach began to tighten of its own accord. “I’m gonna come inside you, beautiful man,” Paul uttered, barely able to make the words coherent. 

**_“I love you more than life!”_** The ride curled up and back violently as Daryl’s huge cock jerked. Paul felt the awesome spurt as it hit his and Daryl’s faces. Daryl turned his heads and their mouths battled to lick and suck the nectar off each other.

Paul cried out in unadulterated joy. Daryl could feel his awesome lover’s cock jerking as Paul’s hips slammed up into him, painting his insides with jet after jet of Paul’s come. Daryl squeezed and continued to ride Paul down as the young man panted beneath him. They finally lay together, Daryl asking Paul to stay in him a few moments more, the intimacy unable to be replaced any other moment. 

When Daryl finally eased off, he led Paul to the shower where they bathed each other gently, kissing and sharing adoration, spoken and otherwise. After they were back in bed, Daryl held Paul close to his chest, fingers rubbing at the back of Paul’s neck where he’d sucked a hickey in the shower. Daryl could feel that Paul was still wide awake, his ultra-hot actor’s growing cock quietly asking for more.

“That’s not all I asked permission for from your folks,” Daryl admitted, his desire flaring anew as he rolled up and came to sit on his knees, throwing aside the covers and pulling Paul’s perfect, bubble ass up to his hips. Daryl’s cock was ready again; the hard, heavy, leaking phallus stuck straight out, pulsing against Paul’s own growing cock. He leaned down, forcefully took Paul’s mouth, planting a fiery kiss anew and enslaving his beautiful actor’s tongue as he sucked it. Paul broke into a smile, breathless from the kiss and full of anticipation at his brawny man’s next words. “And they said ‘yes,’” 

He kissed Paul deeply again, his tongue conquering Paul’s mouth, taking joy in his gorgeous actor's increasing excitement, Paul's cock growing hard as granite once more and bouncing with his quickening heart as it completely unsheathed itself. Daryl proceeded to rim, finger, suck, and fuck Paul on the bed, the floor, and finally holding Paul’s back up against the bedroom wall, his beautiful young man clinging to Daryl’s shoulders, and crying out as Daryl bit and sucked hard at his collarbone. 

“I _also_ asked your family about us moving in together,” Paul said, breathing heavily into Daryl’s ear. Daryl looked into Paul’s eyes as he thrust faster and deeper, he mouth open. “And more,” he added. “They said ‘yes’ too!’” Paul welcomed Daryl’s lip-crushing kiss, then grabbed his hunter’s hair, pulled his head back, and ravished Daryl’s neck and throat with love bites, kisses, and hickeys. Daryl pumped him hard and fast until Paul whimpered and cried out, this time he was spraying Daryl’s chest with strong blasts of come as Daryl released his own torrents forcefully inside him. 

Neither had ever know a time when they were more thankful for how their lives had turned out. They spent the next hour telling each other just how thankful they truly were.


	13. Double Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul start to forge their own way and show their strength as a couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting and for any errors. Also, comments help to keep things cranking right along. I LIVE for them. Thanks, and happy reading!
> 
> XOXO

Daryl woke up before the alarm went off; it was set for 5:30 AM in order to give himself and Paul enough time to get to the gym, catch a decent workout, and shower before heading out to open up the shop. Daryl smiled to himself as he thought about the day before when he and Paul had asked each other to move in together at exactly the same time. Even better, they agreed to do so with no hesitation whatsoever. The handsome hunter smiled even wider when he reminisced about what happened after they got back to his place: Paul had swept Daryl to bed early in order to celebrate their good news and to worship him until they passed out, totally spent and sated, sometime after 11:00 PM. 

Daryl didn’t usually need the alarm to wake up early; by now, it was practically built into his system. Although of recent, he was very much enjoying waking up to either Paul’s loving touch or the new and wonderfully deepening desires of his own libido. This morning, however, it was due to a full bladder. Daryl started to roll over, reach for the alarm to switch it off, and get out of bed to head into the bathroom. The only issue was that he had a glorious, naked Paul lying face-down across him at a nearly perpendicular angle. The covers lay at the foot of the bed, and the tan sheet that covered Daryl’s legs only covered half of Paul’s beautiful, round ass. Daryl could make out those lips and the brow, the rest of Paul’s perfect features covered in his long, glossy hair. Daryl smiled to himself, still baffled at how his man pulled that off and never did anything but wash his hair.

Daryl reached over to his right and brushed Paul’s hair out of his eyes. Paul blinked and moaned a little. It was the sweetest sound in the world; Daryl loved it almost as much as the man who made it, but right now he had to piss like a racehorse. He stroked the right, muscular globe of Paul’s ass and watched as his beautiful actor came to life.

“Mmm,” Paul moaned again, blinking his eyes open, spreading his legs wider for Daryl to caress in the cleft of his ass, and smiling up at his awesome boyfriend. “That feels _so_ good, Superman.” He shifted up on his elbows, stretched a bit, and yawned. “You up for another round? Or is it already gym time?” 

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, squeezing Paul’s ass lovingly. “Sorry, Sunshine. I gotta piss sump’n fierce.”

“Oh _shit_!” Paul gasped, rolling off to let Daryl up and getting to his knees on the bed. “And here I am pressing down on—“

Daryl had reached under Paul’s upper arm, and with gentle but impressive strength, hauled him up for a quick kiss. The big man rubbed their foreheads together and ran a hand through Paul’s gorgeous hair, the tangles falling right out with envy-inducing simplicity, before Daryl leaned back to catch his love’s full attention as he spoke soft and clear. “Hey, you! You’re my man. You’re my whole world, my life, my goddamned _everything_! And you sleeping on top of me ain’t hurt me one damn bit. You’re the one who keeps me safe and warm all night long. You’re the one who keeps the nightmares of my godforsaken upbringing away and lets me have happy dreams of a life with you; it’s even better when I wake up 'cause I get to live that life with you for real. And every time we fuck, you break me apart and make me brand new all over again.” Paul smiled back at him. Daryl nodded, leaned in, and kissed Paul. “Sounds corny as fuck, but—“

This time Paul had him by the lips. Maybe not so corny after all. “It sounds like love,” Paul assured; they hugged for a moment longer before Paul broke the embrace and swatted Daryl’s right ass cheek. “Now, go pee.”

Daryl nuzzled his lover’s face once more before heading to the bathroom. The light clicked on, banishing the darkness with sight-stealing effectiveness. Paul heard his strapping man groan and saw him place a hand on the wall to be able to lean and adjust his aim before emptying his bladder. Morning wood could be both a blessing and a curse. Daryl washed his hands and stepped back into the room, opening the dresser drawer to procure workout attire for himself and Paul.

“Would you like some help at work today?” Paul offered. “I’m not much of a mechanic, but I know some basics, and I can answer phones and stuff while Merle and Caesar are off hunting.”

He could hear Paul’s heavy stream flowing now. Daryl stepped into his athletic gear—Paul had bought them a nice selection of new shirts, shorts, shoes, socks, and jockstraps; Daryl appreciated those very much since he had exceptional size, even flaccid, and didn’t want to make a spectacle of himself. Given that Paul was in the same boat, he made it a point to wear them as well. The mechanic had always worn the plain, old white versions from Safe-T or Bike as his best friend had instructed way back in junior high. Now, Paul bought them multiple brands in a variety of fabrics, colors, and designs that gave both men the right fit and utility, plenty of comfort, and even a sense of fashion. 

Daryl smiled to himself at the thought of Paul working with him. Then, he thought of something else as he crossed into the vanity area and slid himself up behind Paul at the sink, kissing his actor's right shoulder. Paul had finished washing his hands and now dispensed toothpaste onto both of their toothbrushes. He offered one to Daryl, which the redneck accepted gratefully. When they had finished scrubbing their teeth, used the water picks to floss, and gargled with mouthwash, Daryl watched as Paul stepped into his own underwear. 

“You’re always welcome at the shop, but you know we’ll probably end up fucking in my office,” Daryl warned as he pulled the dark wine-colored shirt over his head and formidable shoulders. Paul gave him a wicked leer as he watched the shirt stretch perfectly across Daryl’s huge chest and nodded back. “That ain’t a bad thing,” Daryl continued, stepping in closer and handing Paul a dark blue jockstrap, “and I mean to take you up on that sometime soon, but Patrick’s gonna be back in the shop today, which means it’s gonna be awkward as fuck. I know it’s his problem to deal with, not ours.” Daryl shook his head in frustration and shrugged a massive shoulder. “I think the world of the little fucker; he’s like family, but he _definitely_ ain’t my boyfriend.” Daryl picked up the humorous “Sex Machine” cap Connor Reedus had given him from the vanity countertop and put it on before turning back to his true-to-life, hot-as-fuck lover. “But, I ain’t the boss of you, so you’re free to do whatever you please.” 

Paul stepped up on Daryl, kissed his neck at the spot of his most recent hickey, and pulled back to lock eyes with his perfect partner. “I like it when you boss me around.” Paul’s voice was hot and sultry, and he winked at Daryl as he pulled on his own athletic gear—it had a stylized, silver, metallic dragon on the package—and adjusted it to fit best before stepping into his workout shorts and donning an Under Armour crop-top t-shirt. “And, on the subject of Patrick, I was just thinking: there’s a new guy on the set; his name is Benjamin. I think he’s gonna get killed off soon. Anyway, he’s close to Patrick’s age. He’s also cute, gay, and single. I want to introduce them to each other.”

“You noticed this cute, young thing at work, eh?” Daryl teased, playfully grabbing and squeezing a handful of his man’s ultra-fine ass.

“Ha! No, _he_ approached _me_ , but it was in a totally professional capacity,” Paul shrugged. “I can’t help it if someone comes asking for wisdom.”

“That better be all he’s sniffing around asking for,” Daryl chuckled, lifting Paul up with his colossal arms to make his perfect partner laugh out loud before kissing the life from him, tasting the vanilla-mint toothpaste each had just used.

They both finished putting on their gym shoes, grabbed wallets and keys, and picked up their gym bags on the way out the door. The gym was usually slow this time of day. A few hardcore regulars would be getting started already; it was so early that members had to use their i.d. cards to scan for entry and get into the 24-hour facility. Word that Paul worked out there had increased the place’s morning business to near capacity and made it harder for people to find machines. It had also required the management to put up signs inside and out to note that cameras and recording devices were not permitted on the premises, although it didn’t stop some patrons from doing just that nor random photographers from parking on the square itself nor patrons from interrupting the couple’s workout from time to time. Paul was always the epitome of graciousness, but even his seemingly inexhaustible supply of patience appeared to be wearing thin. Today, like so many others, people greeted the pair as they entered. They stretched out and got started hard on chest and arms for the day before running five miles on the treadmill. 

When they were done, Daryl and Paul quickly showered, dressed, and started making their way out. They had taken to showering together after a couple of fans got way too chatty for either of their comfort in the locker room. One had even gone so far as to try to step into the shower stall with Paul. Daryl had come close to swinging on the guy. Others apparently reported the incident, and the guy was banned. They tried to ignore the camera phones that women had started using to record them as they walked out of the locker area together. Daryl knew Paul felt bad about it, and he did his best not to let it get to him. The hunter had even considered taking up Coach’s offer for the two to use the high school facilities before school hours. 

As they reached the front of the gym, Paul noticed the manager working on putting up holiday decorations at the front desk and in the windows. He lit up the Christmas tree just as they were stepping out the front doors.

“Hey, Superman. You have time for a quick bite?” Paul asked, inclining his head toward _The Mean Bean_. 

Daryl checked his watch and nodded, “If Sasha’s already pouring the coffee I reckon I can slide into work just under the wire.” The pair tossed their bags into the trunk of Paul’s car and jogged over to the café.

Crepe myrtle trees stood every twenty feet in neat boxes along the outer sidewalk. In the square itself, dogwoods, camellias, cherry blossoms, and Japanese maples mixed with shrub oaks to deliver the last of the fall colors in the remaining foliage. In the spring and summer, they would be spectacular, especially next to the blooming azaleas, honeysuckle, and moss roses. The leaves were falling fast, and the overcast clouds spoke of a cold, and in all likelihood, wet day.

“Good morning, cuties!” called Sasha as the pair stepped in from the cold morning air. “Take a seat wherever you like! You guys know what you want?” 

Daryl and Paul took a side booth and nodded. “After all that running, I want a One-Eyed Jack biscuit, and some dark roast brew, please!” said Paul. He had told Daryl about the fantastic new creation Ty had with a fried egg, spicy chorizo, peppered Jack cheese, jalapenos, and avocado. 

“Ty’s Big-Boy Breakfast Sandwich for me,” Daryl said. “And I’ll take some OJ and coffee, please ma’am.”

“You got it!” Sasha said, smiling as she tapped the order into the tablet. 

Paul looked around at the festive, golden bells and verdant holly decorations interspersed with giant, shiny, green and red ball ornaments hanging from the ceiling. Each table had a cute, twinkling, miniature Christmas tree. Tiny colored lights outlined the windows, and white icicle lights blinked softly, hanging from the outside awning cover. Bing Crosby was crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the background over the dining room speakers. 

Sasha arrived with the beverages, silverware, and extra napkins. The couple took them and thanked her, remarking on the nice decorations.

“Most appreciated! I told Tyreese people would notice the new digs,” she stated, heading back to check on another table. 

“So, when do you want to put up decorations?” Paul asked, shrugging playfully and biting his bottom lip. His eyes sparkled like a kid’s. “Get in the Christmas spirit!”

Daryl looked down at the table, then to his right to see if anything caught his eye to become a new topic, but nothing was there. Besides, doing that to Paul was fucked up, and Daryl damn-well knew it. He looked back down at the table, played with his thumbnail to keep from biting it, and shrugged. Paul reached across the table and took his gorgeous mechanic's big hands.

“We didn’t do none of that after—“ The handsome redneck’s voice cut off. Paul rubbed his thumbs across the backs of Daryl’s hands. 

“After your Mama died.” 

Daryl nodded. “Carol usually does it all up at her place. Rick and Michonne too. Tara and Denise and the guys. I just go over there, mostly.” Daryl looked up through his bangs, his jaw set in that way that revealed to Paul the little boy behind the scars. “Merle’s gotten used to it. I’ve helped him put up some lights and shit before, but I ain’t never put ‘em up at my place. It’d just be me. And old memories.”

Paul got up and moved around the table and into the bench seat next to his love. “Would you like for us to decorate the house together? I know we have dinner at Jared’s tonight and the school dance tomorrow night and the LA trip on Sunday, but nothing says we have to rush it. I want to help us make some new memories.”

Daryl nodded slightly, “Might be nice.” The big man blinked wet eyes and took a sip of his coffee, then turned back to look at Paul, a shy smile creeping onto his features. Paul rubbed at Daryl’s back and looked into his handsome mechanic’s eyes.

 ** _“We can make our own traditions.”_** The ride banked hard, just like the final turn on the _Dahlonega Mine Train_. Daryl felt himself slide over and crash into Paul’s spirit the way he had on the ride, his heart drawn in to become one with Paul’s and never part. 

The world coalesced, and Paul noticed Daryl’s countenance cloud once more. This time, he could tell it was something else.

“What’s wrong, Superman?” Paul asked, interlacing their fingers.

“I ain’t got no decorations,” Daryl admitted, sounding slightly embarrassed. “No lights or tree or what have you.”

Paul smiled back, leaned in, and kissed his man. “Don’t you fret about that,” Paul declared softly. “We can fix that. Okay? _We_ are going to make this the most _amazing_ Christmas either of us has ever had, and we’re gonna do it _together_.” Paul pulled Daryl’s head down and placed a kiss on the hunter’s right temple.

Daryl was incredibly relieved; he faced Paul, unashamed at the tears in his eyes, and just looked at his wonderful boyfriend. “How do you _do_ that?” the beautiful mechanic asked, truly astounded.

Paul shrugged and answered, “I just let my love for you lead the way.”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and smiled wide. “I’m so fucking glad you’re moving in, Sunshine,” Daryl said.

“Me too, Superman,” Paul agreed, cupping Daryl’s face and pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Sasha arrived with their breakfasts; Daryl had to eat quickly and drink his coffee and juice. Fortunately, the owner had anticipated such, and Sasha provided them both with full to-go cups of the fantastic brew. Paul kissed his love again and followed him out as they went to their respective rides.

Minutes later, Daryl parked behind his shop. Everyone was present except Merle and Caesar who had taken a day to go out hunting together. He walked inside the back door, through the inventory area, and into the main garage. Nabila was in the garage proper, firing up the radiant heaters above the work bays, and Axel had booted up the computers and flat-screen displays and was signing into the system at the front desk. T-Dog unlocked the front door as Paul’s red Mazda pulled into the front parking lot. Patrick was busy spraying the seats with a mild cleaner and trying not to look at anyone, especially Daryl.

Daryl watched as his perfect man walked in, his hair now pulled up in a bun at the back of his head, sporting that smile that made Daryl’s heart race. Paul greeted everyone cheerfully. Patrick greeted Paul back and waved sheepishly, busying himself with his task before beginning to polish the glass of the entry door and the storefront windows. Paul stopped and whispered something to him, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Patrick seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded and answered back. Paul leaned over and kissed the top of Patrick’s head before turning to wink at Daryl and joining him behind the front desk while the owner printed out the daily dockets for each mechanic. Paul took out his phone and sent a text. Daryl handed the dockets to Patrick to pass along in the garage. The business phone rang, and before Daryl could turn back and reach for the receiver it was in Paul’s hand. 

“ _Dixon Brothers Motor Professionals_ ,” Paul greeted, crisp, business voice in full effect. “How may we help you this morning?” 

Daryl leaned on the counter and watched as Paul picked up a pen and began writing on one of the message pads. Paul glanced at the price list on the nearest overhead flat-screen television directly behind the two of them. 

“That’s seventy-nine ninety-nine plus tax for a full synthetic oil change,” Paul explained, listening further. “Let me check that for you.” He slid the pad to Daryl. It read: open time spots? Daryl pulled up the docket to show the open time slots. 

“Okay. Here we go,” continued Paul. “We have several time options throughout the day. What time works best for you, Mr Fischer?” There was a pause. “Yes, sir. We can take care of you at noon and have you back out and running in about fifteen to twenty minutes. Okay. No problem,” Paul glanced over at Daryl and grinned. “Oh, this is Paul.” Pause. “Yes sir, Hershel’s son.” Listening. “Yes sir, Paul _the hippie_.” Daryl huffed a sigh of disbelief as Paul listened further. “Yes, yes, it was really nice to see you and Mrs Fischer at the farm on Labor Day.” Daryl shook his head and chuckled. “Yes sir, the _acting thing_ is still working out for now. I just happened to be off today and wanted to help Daryl out up here at the shop.” Pause. “Oh, okay.” Pause. “No sir. That is not a rumor; that is very much true: we are together _that way_.” Pause. Paul huffed a laugh and tried to compose himself. “No sir, I was like this when Mama and Daddy got me from the group home. Yeah, I came like that.’ Daryl barked a laugh at his gorgeous lover’s double-entendre and stifled it quickly, pulling his cap down over his face. “When did Daryl _turn that way_?” Daryl’s jaw dropped, and suddenly Paul was having to swat his hand away to keep him from taking the receiver. Paul turned, sat up on the counter, and beckoned Daryl to him, turning Daryl’s cap around backwards, resting his lover’s noggin against his chest, and quietly kissing the top of Daryl’s head while managing to retain the receiver. “Mr Fischer, those of us who are gay or lesbian or bi or trans or queer—we’ve been that way basically all our lives. The only _choice_ we make is to be true to ourselves and to be happy.” Listening. “Oh, I don’t think that you or Mrs Fischer think like that. You’ve both always been an example for others of how to be kind and accepting, and I, for one, really appreciate it.” Daryl leaned back and looked up with a what-the-fuck expression; Paul just shook his head and he listened, then suddenly his eyes grew wide and he smiled. “Well, you can tell Daryl how brave you think he is when you get here today, Mr Fischer. He would appreciate it. Okay, yes sir. See you then! Bye!” He hung up.

“Welcome to running a small town business, where everybody knows yours,” Daryl groused jokingly. “That the old neighbor who told Otis and Patricia we looked like we were getting ‘awfully familiar’ with each other at Labor Day?”

“Yeah, and Aunt Patsy, Lacey, and Frank all laid into him about it and didn’t let Mama or Daddy know,” said Paul. “I think the old fella was embarrassed about it. In any case, I believe people can learn differently. Most of the time, they just don’t have any positive experiences with our peeps to draw upon.” He looked into Daryl’s eyes and brushed his handsome mechanic’s bangs out of his eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry if I went too far there,” Paul said, his cheeks turning red. “I really didn’t mean to get preachy or overstep my bounds on your business phone.”

“Nah,” Daryl countered immediately, his fingers raising Paul’s chin. “Look at me. I didn’t take it that way. That’s one of the things I love most about you: you always try to help people get along.” Daryl ran a thumb across Paul’s cheek. 

**_“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”_** The momentum shift of the ride caught them both by surprise, and it wasn’t until Carol pointedly cleared her throat that they broke apart, came up for air, and realized the world was solid again. 

Sophia just looked at her mother, shook her head, and asked, “Really, Mom?” Daryl stepped back and Paul slipped down off the counter.

“Oh, I’m just giving them a little guff,” Carol said. “They’re tough guys. They can take it.”

“Hey, y’all,” Daryl said. “What’s up?”

“Hi!” Paul said, waving. “You guys heading out to the Black Friday sales?”

“Nope. We’ve already hit the stores and we’re done for the time being,” Carol said, bringing a baker’s box up to the counter.

“We got killer deals, too!” exclaimed Sophia. 

“What time did you guys get to the stores?” asked Paul.

“The outlets opened at 5:00 AM,” Sophia explained. “Mom and I got our attack plan together and met up with Enid and her mom in time to get most of our list completed. Merle’s gonna love what I got him. So are you two.”

“Hey now, don’t go spending all your hard earned lottery winnings on us,” Daryl scoffed playfully. He turned back to answer the ringing phoneline. “Good morning, _Dixon Brothers’ Motor Professionals_. How can we help you today?” There was no answer. “Hello? Hello? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. We got a bad connection.” The caller i.d. indicated an unknown number. “Sorry. Please try back.“ Daryl hung up the phone.

Sophia just scoffed at Daryl’s prior comment and changed the subject to tomorrow night’s dance as she excitedly told Paul about her new outfit. Paul and Carol heard Daryl’s apologetic response and turned as he hung up.

“Must be using my old carrier,” Carol jested. “Can you hear me now?” She pushed the box of tarts at the boys and kissed them both, waiting for Sophia to do the same before they headed home. “Okay guys, we’re outta here to go catch some sleep. You two have fun tonight at the post-turkey pizza party!” Carol and Sophia headed out and left the pair thinking about going out to dinner before tomorrow night’s dance. 

At 12:14, Daryl was watching Paul ring up Mr Fischer and listening to the man tell them both what examples of courage they both were and that it helped with them not being “too sissified and actually being real men.” Daryl just nodded and thanked him graciously; he couldn’t get the old bastard out the door fast enough. 

“He’ll get there,” said Paul when the man had left the lobby. “Maybe.” 

Daryl burst out laughing. Several of the other clients were now laughing too as they had overheard the poor man make an ass of himself.

“Think we should get him a haircut from Jared?” 

“Hell no!” Daryl yelled, laughing so hard he was bent over and slapping his hand on one of the empty seats. “He and Eric have too many sharp objects! We’d be accessories or conspirators or some such shit. Look at all these witnesses.”

Paul was laughing too. “Well, I wasn’t going there, but I’m glad you’re thinking ahead, baby. Safety first!”

Patrick stepped back in with his docket and waited for the men to notice him and draw him over. The adorable, young mechanic was practically bouncing with excitement until he saw Daryl motion his head for the young man to follow them into his office. “Shut the door,” Daryl said to Patrick. The young mechanic closed the door behind him, summoned up his courage, and spoke. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for drinking your family liquor and getting stupid at Thanksgiving. I swear it’ll never happen again.”

Daryl nodded. “Good. You’re forgiven.” Patrick smiled and sighed a breath of relief. “But if you show out like that again,” Daryl warned, “there will be a permanent imprint of my boot tread on your ass.”

Patrick huffed a laugh, but his smile instantly sublimated when he saw the Dixon glare in full effect. 

“What about the other?” Paul asked. “Did you hear anything?”

“He said ‘YES!’” Patrick said, all big grin and a fist pump. 

“Told you,” Paul affirmed. The actor pulled out his phone and beckoned Patrick to follow him out of Daryl’s office and into the break area for a moment. When they returned, the smile on Patrick’s face was priceless. 

Daryl gave Paul a questioning look. “I’m sending Patrick and Benjamin to _Short Round_ tonight for a blind date—all my treat. I was going to send them to _Barrington House_ , but they want it to be casual, so . . . Best of all, Benjamin thinks Patrick’s a total babe. Ah, young love,” Paul cooed. Daryl just huffed a laugh and shook his head. He spent the rest of the morning in amazement at Paul’s match-making talents. Paul showed him the pictures of each he had texted them earlier. Benjamin was indeed cute and his texts indicated a strong interest in Patrick. Daryl really hoped it would work out as nicely for them as it had for himself and Paul.

After a hectic afternoon, the couple closed up shop, went home to change up, and around 7:00 PM Daryl parked out on the street behind Tara’s Nissan Juke. Jared and Alden lived in a remodeled, two-story craftsman cottage in Palmetto, complete with shiny tin roofing and window boxes that would be full of flowers in the spring. The tackiest holiday scene decorated the yard and porch, complete with Darla Peevey’s “I Wanna Hippopotamus for Christmas” playing from a hidden speaker, glaring mismatched lights, inflatables that looked like giant snow globes, and a plastic Santa wearing a chest strap harness. It was truly a spectacle, and it always attracted passersby. Paul immediately promised Daryl he would be tasteful with his décor choices much to his brawny man’s relief. 

Entering the house, they found their friends already well into a deep discussion about losing their virginity. Daryl shook his head at Paul as they made their way back to the open living room and kitchen. A familiar animal caught Daryl’s attention immediately.

“Hey, Oreo,” Daryl said, kneeling down and scratching the portly black-and-white tuxedo cat behind her ears. “Are they treating you good over here, girl?”

“More like, Double-Stuff!” Jared said, smiling as he opened two beers and handed them to Paul. “That fucker’s _eighteen_ pounds. The vet says Miss Thing’s got to go on a D-I-E-T.”

The cat looked back at her human with a sour glare. 

“Look at her,” Jared laughed. “She knows I'm up here talking about her fat ass!” He made kissing noises back at the feline. She turned to allow Daryl to continue worshipping her imperial presence by way of head scratches.

Paul huffed a laugh. “You know it’s not nice to talk about a lady’s weight.”

“Aww, baby! Don’t fat-shame our lovey-dovey, rolly-polly kitty,” Alden said on his way back into kitchen. “She’s just a sweet, fluffy girl. Isn't that right, Miss O?”

“ _Shit_!” scoffed Jared. “Big girl will _cut a bitch_ , and she learned that death stare from Daryl! She gets on the corner of the backyard fence and just runs her claws down that wood ‘til they could cut through steel plate. One time this one low-life neighbor of ours let his mean-ass pit bull loose to run the street. I really think he wanted to see it kill something—total fuck-wit. It’s a wonder that there wasn’t a young’un attacked as aggressive as this idiot let that damn dog be around here. Any-hoo, Miss O was out on the front porch, just minding her own damn business and checking out the front yard to ensure that it was free of evil squirrels and malcontent birds while we were washing the cars. Well, this monster canine sees her and comes tearing across the street and into the yard. He’s all barking and snapping, and Miss O is just looking back at him like, ‘The fuck you say!’ Al was yelling at the guy to come get his fucking dog; dude’s just like ‘Whatever.’ Well, too late motherfucker! That dog ran straight at her, and at the last second, she slashed out and cut his jowls but good. Now, the dog knew _somethin’_ happened but not what; I think he and the owner were a few fries short of a Happy Meal. Miss O’s still sitting looking back at him like, ‘Nice try, whore!’ Now, this dog realizes something has gone terribly wrong with this scene, but he can’t figure out exactly what because she had moved so fast and her claws were so sharp, the damn dog didn’t realize he’d been cut ‘til the dumb fucker went back in again, and this time, she opened up his nose for him. _That_ time it sunk in, literally. All of a sudden, there’s a yelping dog, dripping blood everywhere and trying his damnedest to get the hell away from our cat—oh, and she ain’t havin’ _none_ of it! She went after that dog, justa hissin’ and spittin’ and carryin’ on, ready to show him who’s who in this ‘hood. Straight-up thug life!” 

Hearty laughter abounded at Jared’s tale. “You go right on keeping those pit bulls in line, Oreo,” Daryl added.

“To look at her, you wouldn’t think that she could move that fast, but she was on his ass like a fat kid on a ice cream cake!” Jared said.

“She’s fast when she wants to be,” Alden added as he pulled the two large, heavy ceramic bowls from the far kitchen counter and removed the tea towels. “But she sure loves her some Daryl.”

“She's gonna have to get in line,” Paul declared as Daryl stepped up to steal a kiss. Miss Oreo rubbed her head affectionately at Paul's ankle. 

Alden sat the bowls near the stove. The puffy pizza dough in each bowl was shiny, beautifully risen, and smelled delightfully of yeast, rosemary, and olive oil. The oven was cranked up to 550 degrees, and two pizza stones waited within. Paul handed one of the beers to his handsome mechanic, clinked them in a toast, and looked out over the various and sundry toppings that had been placed out in bowls: vegetables from Jared’s garden, meats, cheeses, herbs, and sauces. From the moment Daryl had told him about their friends’ post-Black Friday shopping tradition of building your own pizza night, Paul had looked forward to it all week. Jared and Alden were hosting this year. Within half an hour, Eric and Aaron, Tara and Denise, and Laura and Arat had arrived to enjoy the evening together. 

“Okay, boys and girls!” called Laura, showing off her pizza tossing skills. "Pick your pie!".

“Ah, hell yeah!” exclaimed Paul, mouth agape and hands applauding as Laura began to twirl the flattening dough up again and again and even behind her back.

Soon, everyone had their own pizzas made and dinner was well under way. Everyone sat around in the living room together while old Christmas cartoons and stop-animation shows streamed on the television in the background. The various conversations covered everything from funny holiday stories to everyone’s travel plans. Denise and Tara were planning to travel up to Ohio to stay with Denise’s family, and the psychiatrist was really looking forward to seeing her twin brother. She had told Daryl more than once that he reminded her of Dennis. Tara knew how important it was and had requested the time off at the beginning of the year, noting that she had worked over nearly every holiday for the past two years. She also needed the time to study for her detective examination. Aaron was happy to know that Daryl and Paul were coming to the dance. Evidently, the word had spread among the student body that one of the new stars of Death Ascendant was going to be there, and online dance ticket sales sky-rocketed. Aaron and Tara assured the couple that security would be on hand to watch out for aggressive fans and paparazzi. Jared and Eric promised to take care of their grooming if they had time to drop into the spa.

“How your house hunt going?” asked Eric. 

“Mmm,” Daryl nodded, trying to finish a mouthful of his extra cheese and portobello mushroom pizza. Once he had swallowed, he answered. “She called today, and tomorrow morning early we’re going over to see the place she had told Paul about. We still have to pack to fly out to LA on Sunday.”

“Listen at him,” Jared kidded. “Daryl Dixon, jet-setter extraordinaire.” Daryl turned red and hid in adorable face behind his hands. 

“Shit. Sorry! I wasn’t trying to brag, ‘y’all,” he backpedaled, hiding his face in the palms of his hands as he turned beet-red.

“Baby, you know I am just kidding you, right? This whore is totally jelly!” Jared said, pulling Daryl in to give him a peck on top of the head. “Somebody needs a trim. See me when y’all get back, boo!” The redneck just shook his head and laughed.

“We also get to meet the architect who designed the place for the original owner,” Paul added. “Her name is Jacqui Williams, and Lori said she was up for re-engineering the house plans so that the place would be more to our liking. In the meantime, I talked to Daniel and Victor today. Daniel is the actor who rents my place in LA, and Victor is my lawyer. Since Daniel is now in Austin full-time working on our sister show, he was cool with me selling my place, and Victor started working with a realtor who wants to show the place starting tomorrow afternoon. He says it’ll fetch a really good price. I sure hope so. I put a lot of money into fixing it up along and along.”

“To moving in together,” Jared said, raising his beer. “Congratulations, sluts!” Everyone laughed and joined in toasting the pair.

“Daryl’s never seen my place in Los Angeles, but he’ll get to Sunday night,” Paul explain. “Connor and I are appearing on the aftershow this week.”

“Oh, fuck!” Laura blurted. “Does that mean--?”

“If Davy or Merlin dies . . .,” started Eric.

“We will burn that motherfucker to the ground!” finished Alden. 

Paul shrugged and his face became that teasing, slightly mischievous look that not even Daryl could read through. “I can’t say.” He took a sip of his beer.

Jared gave a frustrated groan. “Bitch, I will show up and cover you both in bubble wrap!”

“You!” Arat, poked teasingly at Daryl’s knee. “Make him talk!”

Daryl nodded back and shrugged. Then, he turned to Paul and leaned close. “Hey, Sunshine.”

Paul was a statue. 

“Oh c’mon, Daryl. You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Tara scoffed.

Daryl reached a hand and swept Paul’s long hair back, revealing his gorgeous actor’s long, glorious neck and the remnants of a love mark from the night before. Paul just stared at his own plate on the coffee table. 

“You got this, Daryl,” said Aaron.

The brawny mechanic leaned closer in and placed a delicate kiss on his perfect man’s neck just below his right ear. His words were only for Paul. Then, he leaned back and Paul had no choice but to turn to face his perfect partner. Daryl swallowed hard, looking into Paul’s glorious face. Paul’s misty, blue-green orbs locked with Daryl’s dark, storm-blue irises as lips parted to speak.

 ** _“Only for you.”_** The ride shot completely out from under the duo. When they broke apart, the room was silent except for Burl Ives rendition of “Silver and Gold” playing out in the background. Everyone sat in utter shock and amazement. Paul was now in Daryl’s lap, knees straddling his glorious hunter’s hips, his head resting on top of Daryl’s while pulling his handsome partner's face into his chest. Daryl’s arms were locked around Paul’s waist. Paul had one hand in Daryl’s hair and the other on his man’s powerful ack, fingers playing lightly over the tattooed skin just beneath the shirt at Daryl's right shoulder blade. 

Paul started to move, but Daryl grunted, shook his head slightly, and held his little ninja firmly in place. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” said Denise. 

“Fuck, no!” declared Arat, wiping her own eyes and holding Laura close. 

After a few minutes, Daryl finally let go. The other couples were hugging and holding hands, eyes wet with tears and lost in their mutual affections. It was not vulgar or base, and Denise’s earlier words resonated with Daryl and Paul. They parted and rose from the sofa. 

“We ain’t embarrassed,” declared Daryl quietly. “Spent too long like that. Just didn’t mean to get too caught up, ya know? Anyway, he ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ‘bout who’s alive or not.”

“No explanation needed, Double-D,” Laura assured. “We love you guys.” Arat nodded vehemently.

“And we love y’all too,” said Paul, leading Daryl by the hand to the door to the back patio. “I think I could go for a cigarette.”

“I could use a puff, but not a Morley,” Jared said, laughing. 

“But I will say that I think you guys will all be happy with the show,” Paul said as he opened the back door. “Please watch it Sunday night.” The gathering responded in the affirmative. 

After a few minutes, hand in hand in the crisp, cold November night, Daryl finished the smoke that Paul had started. They looked up in tandem when the back door opened and Denise joined them. She handed them new beers. Paul thanked the sweet psychiatrist, and Daryl offered her a cigarette; she politely refused.

“You know, you two don’t know it,” Denise said quietly. “But you really inspire every couple in that house.” 

“Pfft!” Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” Daryl noticed that Paul also looked taken aback; Denise gave a nod and smile in return. 

“I’m serious,” Denise stated, her right hand up as if swearing in court. ”It’s true. We see our own hopes and wishes coming true for you two just as much as your families do. We see possibilities.” She nodded toward the back door. “They aren’t judging you guys.” Denise sighed and looked to Daryl. “I know you don’t usually talk about your feelings, and I am the absolute last one to push you to do so when you aren’t ready, but I want you to know something for your own peace of mind: Daryl, you’re one of the strongest, bravest men I know; you say what you mean; and you care about people. So it’s no big surprise that when someone like Paul came along—someone who has those exact same qualities—that you’d fall head-over-heels in love with each other. You’re good representatives of this group.”

“Y’all are our family, too,” Daryl declared softly.

“Aww,” Denise gushed, stepping in to hug the pair. “We feel that way about the two of you.”

At 8:38 the next morning, Lori Walsh pulled up to meet Daryl and Paul at the address for the property. He knew exactly where it was. Once upon a time, this land had been owned by his Uncle Jess and his granddaddy Collins before that. Lori opened the door and got out of her vehicle, a bag in one hand and four travel cups of hot coffee from _The Mean Bean_.

“Bacon, egg, and cheese okay?” she asked, using her hip to close the car door. 

“Oh, hell yeah!” said Paul, helping her distribute everything as they ate and walked around to the remnants of the foundation dig. "Thank you!" Concrete hadn’t even been poured, and over time, everything had washed back in. 

“Damn, Lori,” Daryl huffed, unwrapping the delicious biscuit sandwich. “You looking to sell this place bad, huh? Thanks.” They both kissed Lori on the cheek, and she returned the affectionate gesture.

Lori laughed back and shrugged. “Well, the bank foreclosed over two years ago, so you can get this place for a relative steal.”

Daryl gave Lori the side-eye. “What’s the catch?”

Lori nodded as she chewed on a bite of her own biscuit and washed it down with a swallow of coffee. “Smart man! The bank wants to recoup the loss in a quick sell,” she explained. “But to get as much as they can, they’re setting a condition of parcel sell. This lot and the surrounding land all the way to Bass Creek and down to the Highway 85 Connector.” She turned to Paul. “The north side borders your family’s property.”

“That’s over ten thousand acres!” Daryl blurted.

“It’s actually just over _fourteen_ thousand,” Lori corrected.

“How much do they want for it?” Paul inquired.

Lori smiled slyly. “They want three point five million. I know for a fact we can get it for six hundred thousand.”

Paul bit his bottom lip and thought. A white Mercedes CLA 250 pulled up behind Lori’s SUV. A dark woman with short hair, thin frame, and smiling face emerged with a large blueprints canister. From the passenger side, a wiry gentleman of lighter complexion and tight cropped hair got out and walked along with her.

“Morning, Lori!” called the lady, making her way toward the trio. “Sorry, I’m late. You must be Daryl and Paul.” She shook hand with each of the men. “Guys, this is Guillermo Diaz. He’s the original contractor. 

The contractor shook hands with the couple and Lori as Jacqui continued, “We want to show you what had originally been planned, show you some new ideas that we have for potential options for you guys, and talk to you about what _your_ thoughts and plans might be.”

Daryl removed his cap, ran a hand through his hair before putting it back on, and huffed a nervous breath. “Well, we’re just looking and all today. I mean—I didn’t really plan on all this.”

“We’re here on our own, guys,” Guillermo explained. “We lost a lot, and yes, we want to sell you on something new; but I promise you, if you just give us a minute and take a look, we think you’ll like what you see and hear.”

Daryl shrugged and Paul nodded, not expecting too much, but after forty-five minutes of seeing the gorgeous property and talking over the changes to the blueprints Jacqui and Guillermo suggested, they told Lori to look to hear offer. The women nearly hugged the handsome duo to death.

At 10:04 AM Saturday morning, the couple’s olfactory nerves clashed with the cloying smell permeating the décor store: an aromatic assault of various potpourri mixes, a collage of scented candles, and a myriad array of fragrant oils creating the mix. The store also had the largest--and busiest--section of Christmas decorations Daryl had ever seen. The brawny redneck was thankful to watch Paul jump into action, setting them both directly on the path of least resistance. It would be too easy to get overwhelmed in here. Less than twenty minutes later, they had decorations and lights galore paid for and in the truck. At noon, they Chinese food just off the main square in downtown Marietta, took pictures with and signed autographs for folks who recognized Paul, and visited a Christmas store there that Paul had discovered online. Finally back in King County, they stopped by a hardware store for a tree stand and extension cords. Daryl also found a set of really cool timers that had Bluetooth remotes and a Wi-Fi connection with a phone app. Their last stops in the afternoon were a live tree vendor and Woodbury Wine & Spirits for beer, whisky, and smokes. Philip Blake had finally hired a new fellow named Mitch Dolgen to handle the Friday and Saturday shifts.

At 5:55 that evening, Daryl pressed his lips to Paul’s left temple and held his gorgeous boyfriend even closer as they lay together on the leather sofa, enjoying the results of their holiday decorating efforts. The holiday lights bathed the living room in warm, soft light. Glittering ornaments galore, hundreds of tiny white lights, a string of large, colored bulbs, and a dozen of Daryl's favorite old-fashioned, bubbling oil lights Paul had found back in Marietta made the tree picture perfect. The evergreen’s aroma filled the house. A lighted garland with gold, silver, and carved wooden ornaments. The front porch was decorated with two small, lighted evergreens at each side of the front door where a wreath of holly with shining bow and ribbons was hung. Small electric candles shone softly in each of the front windows. 

“I never imagined the house could look like this,” Daryl murmured. “This is fucking incredible, like a goddamn postcard.”

“I just looked up what to do on the Internet,” Paul confessed. “I never had much of a knack for decorating and interior design.”

“I love you,” Daryl said softly. 

Paul rolled over to face the man he loved more than anything or anyone else in the world. “I love you, Superman.” 

“What happens if Merlin gets killed off?”

Paul shifted and smirked. “You know something I don’t?”

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head. “Just flashing back to everybody’s reaction last night and being insecure I reckon. Carol says we all got those kinda moments, and it’s better to face up to ‘em.”

Paul kissed Daryl’s lips gently several times. “If that happens (kiss), when that happens (kiss), I will tell you first (kiss), and we (kiss) will enjoy my Death Day Dinner (kiss). Then, I will talk with Madison (kiss) about what’s next (kiss). Considering how many comic series are shooting movies and shows here, I may be a superhero or a supervillain— _that_ would be fun—but that’s just part of the whole journey. This show could go on forever, and I’d love that, or it could end—or Merlin could end—and I’d be fine with that too. I can get another acting job and do commercials and conventions. Please don’t worry. I had to learn to let all that go or I’d never have been able to get over all the rejection that comes with this career.” 

“Well, I’ma fucking burn some shit down!” Daryl grumbled. “They gone need a new set or two over yonder.” Paul chuckled and rubbed his mouth and beard against his handsome hunter’s chest, tickling Daryl slightly and drawing out a sweet moan.

“You and Connor, both!” Paul declared. “And the fans are all like: ‘If Davy dies, we riot!’”

“Double that for Merlin,” Daryl affirmed. “I don’t like this whole ‘killing gay people on television’ mess. That’s some fucking _bullshit_ , especially when they’re happy or could be. Kinda shit pisses me right-the-hell off!”

“My Superman to the rescue,” said Paul, reaching up to run his fingers across Daryl’s brow. “That’s got you worried. That I lose my job when things are going so good, and I have to move on?”

Daryl caught his hand and rubbed a thumb across his perfect partner’s cheek instead of bringing it to his mouth. Daryl couldn’t hide the set of his jaw, the physical sign of his worry. Paul rose up, leaned in, and locked eyes with his future husband. 

“I. Am. Yours,” he said, each word searing itself on Daryl’s heart. “No matter how my career turns, changes, or dies, and if it does, then I can do something else. I would go back to school and learn to be a mechanic.” Daryl gave him a pointed look. “Or, if you don’t like that, I could take some of my money and invest in multiple businesses—maybe start one or two of my own. Or, I could go work for Uncle Otis and take over Greene Farm—I mean, he and Daddy have to retire sometime. Or, if my man wants, I will stay right here at the house and eat bonbons while we live off the interest of my bank account.” He looked askance at Daryl. “You do realized that I’m loaded, right? I mean, not like _crazy_ rich, but I don’t have to work if I don’t want to—like _ever_ again.”

Daryl looked like he wanted to ask, but backed off the obvious question, thinking it none of his business. After all, he and Merle ran a business that did just over $3M each year and was still slowly growing. Of the profits, Daryl took home a salary that would easily support himself and Paul, he saved and invested the rest. Until now, he’s not had anyone to spend money on other than friends and family here and there. He’d set up college funds for Carl and Judith, and invested most his surplus in purchases of land around the county. Daryl liked his three bedroom home with the large tract of woods behind it, but he wasn’t married to it. He’d rather be married to Paul, happy to live with him in LA or in a tent in the Georgia woods. Truth be told, he was really excited about the prospect of building a home with Paul. 

“My liquid net worth is a little over eleven million,” said Paul. Daryl’s eyebrows shot up. “I have some significant long-term investments that will double that over the next twenty years or so. And this job doesn’t pay me like it does Andy or Connor. Madison and Victor are of the opinion that if AMC doesn’t offer more at my next negotiations, we let Merlin die off and get me into something else that pays well and shoots here in Atlanta.” He looked at Daryl, catching his handsome redneck's full attention. "I’m not afraid of losing the gig. I’m afraid of being without you.”

Daryl swallowed hard and blinked as he felt his eyes grow wet. 

**_“I ain’t going nowhere.”_** The ride took off again, and before Daryl knew it, he had Paul underneath him, the both of them panting as they sunk back into the here and now. 

“The dance!” they both yelled and laughed. Daryl got up, took Paul in his arms, and carried him back to the bedroom so they could grab a quick shower and get dressed. 

Just before 7:00 PM, Daryl and Paul walked along the hall of the new King County high school to the cafeteria. Olivia greeted them at the door as she took tickets from the entrants. There was some serious hip-hop music blaring out, and both Daryl and Paul made their way over to shake hands with DJ Eduardo. They found Aaron in the teachers’ lunch room next to the kitchen, talking to a few other staff and volunteer chaperones.

“Thank you guys for coming!” the vice principal said. “You literally _quadrupled_ the ticket sales!”

“Whoa!” came Coach Negan’s voice across the noise. The tall man sauntered over and shook hands with Daryl and Paul. “Hey, fellas! You two handsome hotties are just in time. Cameraman’s gonna be floating around a lot, taking pictures here and there with the students. Some are gonna want to meet Merlin, but my photo op requires just my Daryl and my Paul.”

“You can have all the pictures you want, Coach,” Paul assured. 

“Look out yonder,” Daryl said. “Damn, they’re growing up fast.”

Carl, Duane, and Ron came strolling into the cafeteria, all dressed smartly with coats and button-down shirts. They looked really nice. 

“Okay,” Aaron said to the adults. “The big rule here is to keep things light and fun, but as always, student safety is first. If you see a problem, please let one of the faculty members know, and we will handle it. Likewise if they have any illicit substances or appear inebriated, let us know immediately. Thank you.”

“That’s a fucking load of holiday cheer,” Coach mumbled to Daryl and Paul, then louder he said, “Let’s go cut a rug!”

They walked out into the main hall. The tables were moved to the far side of the cafeteria, covered with actual tablecloths, and decorated with glittering snowflake centerpieces. Three long tables displayed cake squares, cookies, brownies, sausage balls, cheese straws, and petit fours. Another table had two punchbowls and a dispenser with cucumber and lemon water. 

Girls twirled and swayed in cute dresses; Daryl figured their perfect hair and make-up had kept _Safe Zone Spa_ and several other salons busy that day. The boys—some in suits, some not, some in between, but nearly all in a cloud of body spray—cast furtive glances around, trying to determine the right moment to ask someone to dance. Several teens had converged together out on the dance floor area and were already enjoying the music, moving along to it in typical sway. In herd-like fashion, others began to follow along. Enid and Sophia waved to Daryl and Paul as they entered with two other girls and made their way straight out to the dance floor, letting the boys join them and avoid that awful moment of tension. 

Daryl and Paul found themselves hanging out with Coach, Aaron, and Olivia for most of the evening. The kids were enjoying the event much more than they had expected—especially the boys. Once Ron had plucked up the courage to ask Enid to dance, and she said yes, Carl followed suit with Sophia and Duane with one of the other girls—Rachel was her name, or at least Daryl thought it was. After a long line of students got to meet Paul, DJ Eduardo announced a back-to-back song pairing just for the adults. Daryl saw Coach go get Olivia by the hand and take her out to the dance floor. Aaron was starting to dance with Tara’s sister, Lilly, who taught sophomore English. For the first time in his entire life, Daryl Dixon grabbed the hand of the man he loved and pulled him along to slow dance together, right there in front of god and everyone at a school dance as “Endless Love” played over the speakers. “Locked out of Heaven” followed, giving Paul a moment to show off for his man. Daryl just tried to follow his lead and keep up, but he got to dip Paul at just right time with Aaron and Lilly. That, Aaron’s moonwalk, Coach’s knee slide across the floor, and Paul’s backflip all received major applause and an admission from several men that they would all be sore tomorrow. 

“Mr Rovia?” came the nearly cracking voice of a teen male. 

Paul and Daryl turned from where they had stepped over to get some water. Standing in a half-circle before them were fifteen young men and women, several of whom were paired up male-male and female-female. Enid, Sophia, Carl, Duane, Ron, and Rachel stood with them. Paul looked around for the voice. A young man stepped forward. 

“Hi, there,” Paul said, reaching out and shaking the teenager’s hand. 

“I’m Noah,” the young man said. “This is my boyfriend, Jody, and these are members of the King County High Student Alliance. We work to promote a safe environment for students, straight or otherwise, to be able to learn more about LGBTQ+ issues and discuss what interests them. We just wanted to say thank you for all the work you do to promote a positive image in the LGBTQ+ community.”

“Oh, wow!” Paul exclaimed. “It is so nice to meet all of you! We’re glad you came to the dance, and we hope you always feel comfortable enough to be a part of all the things your school has to offer.”

“Thank you,” Noah said. “Would you and Mr Dixon be willing to be in a group photo with us?”

Paul looked at Daryl, “Would you be okay with us being in the photo?” His handsome mechanic smiled back and nodded.

“Absolutely,” Paul answered. 

As the students gathered up and Carl ran to get the photographer, Daryl quietly whispered to Paul. “Why did you ask me?”

Paul looked at him and answered. “Because I’m not the boss of you, and it’s not fair for me to just answer without checking first, particularly when we’re at a school dance, the kind you and I never got to go to, the kind you missed when you were hurt. I want it to be perfect for you.”

It was truly one of the most thoughtful statements ever directed at him. Daryl’s lips parted, but he couldn’t make a sound for a few seconds, and instead he leaned in and kissed Paul right there.

They immediately heard gasps, sighs, and squeals of delight followed by another teen saying “They are so hot—I just can’t even.” Daryl and Paul chuckled to themselves and got back in the moment. The brawny mechanic and the gorgeous actor turned back to the students.

The teens gathered along the wall next to the west exit. Aaron joined them and knelt down in front of the group with Noah, Jody, Paul, and Daryl. The photographer got several shots, and some with just Paul and the organization’s student leadership.

“Hey, Aaron,” called Daryl. “Do these kids have a—a what-do-you-call-it? Community sponsor?” 

Aaron smiled back at his friend. “Not yet. They sure could use one, though.” 

“Hold that photographer,” Daryl ordered. 

“Sure, Mr Dixon,” the club president replied. In a few moments he had everyone gathered around again and the photographer was resetting. 

Paul sidled up to his beautiful redneck and interlaced their fingers. “What are you up to?” he whispered. 

“Something good, I hope,” Daryl whispered back. “I don’t wanna fuck anything up, so wish me luck here.” 

Paul took Daryl’s face in his hands and they locked eyes for a moment. “You won’t. I’m right beside you.”

 ** _“I’m at my best with you.”_** The ceiling went head-over-heels as the ride shifted. They were hugging when everything solidified, and they found that the crowd of students had actually grown. Daryl turned to address them.

“I just wanted to say that I really admire y’all for your courage,” Daryl began. He took a steadying breath. “I wish to god we had had something like this when I came through high school. What y’all are doing is important, and because of that, I want to offer to be your first community sponsor, if y’all want it. Y’all can talk about it or vote on it or whatever at your next meeting.” The group was overjoyed. 

More photos taken, the rest of the dance went well with Daryl and Paul spending the last few minutes on the dance floor until the music ended and the lights came on. They escorted everyone out into the cold night under the lights of the parking lot where parents waited in idling cars. Coach’s voice cut through the throng. 

“Happy Holidays! Now, go home! First abandoned cell phone I see will be sold by me tonight on e-Bay! Hey! You two! Find a motel! And you, bring me that cigarette RIGHT! NOW!!! Go beg your mother’s forgiveness, you utter delinquent! Yo, Daryl, finish this off.” He handed the cigarette to Daryl, who immediately shrugged and took a drag. 

Students stepped out into the cold night and walked down the covered sidewalk that ran along the paved bus park in front of the new gymnasium. Parents honked and waved to their charges, piling teens into warm vehicles and easing out of the parking lot. Sophia and Carl waited behind to ride home with Paul and Daryl. Aaron thanked the couple and the rest of the remaining adults. Coach locked up the cafeteria doors, waved to the pair, and walked over to where his SUV sat parked in a reserved parking spot near the side entrance to the gym. 

As the last of the students were waiting and talking amongst themselves, an older, dark gray Ford Explorer pulled around quickly between the through-lane and the covered sidewalk and stopped abruptly. Three men jumped out of the vehicle. The eldest was a mass of fat and muscle, the reek of beer and stale cigarettes rolled from the SUV. 

“Holy fuck!” yelled Noah. “Jody, it’s your dad!” Noah tried to shield the smaller teen, but the Wade Treadway just decked him in the face and knocked him to the sidewalk. Teens began to scramble and scream.

“So you had to go and tell everybody you’re a fucking faggot?!! Is that it?!!” the driver screamed. “I’m gonna rid you of this once and for all! Come here!” The huge man advanced on his son only to find his way blocked by none other than Daryl Dixon.

“Don’t you get between me and my boy, asshole!” roared the man in warning.

“Hey!” yelled Aaron. “You men are trespassing on school property.”

One of the men behind the driver sneered and spat, “Probably learned to be a fag from you, pussy boy. We know who you are and where you and your wifey-man live. You best be movin’ soon.”

“Gentlemen,” Paul said. “You want to go get some coffee and sober up before Sheriff Grimes and his officers arrive.”

“Bring that Chambler bitch. Fucking cooze gave me a ticket,“ announced the last man. “Maybe I can show her what a real man can do.”

“Walk away,” said Paul, his voice now stern and ominous.

Daryl scoffed. “Tara’d wipe the floor with the lot of ya if she were here.” He looked at the father dead in the eye and stepped up on the man, Dixon glare in full effect and his face illuminated by the light of the parking lot. “But y'all lucked out and got me instead.”

“Wade,” said the second man no longer full of bravado. “Wade, that’s Daryl Dixon. Merle’s brother.”

The father looked taken aback as he recognized the name. Paul was watching the tire tool in the second man’s nervous hand.

“He and Merle took out the Joe and the Red Machete MC,” explained the second guy. “Nearly killed all of ‘em. Len ain’t never gonna walk again, and Dan has to have that shit bag for life. _He_ did that.”

Daryl never blinked, but Paul could see his man’s eyes grow cold. The man scoffed and swung, and everything went to shit. Daryl took the blow, spit, and looked back at the man who had seriously underestimated the brawny redneck. Daryl’s fist struck like a thunderbolt. Spit, blood, and two of Wade’s teeth flew from the man’s mouth as he was knocked completely off his feet to fall back against the front tire of the vehicle, thoroughly dazed. The second man reared back with the tire tool. Daryl caught a quick motion as Paul caught the man by the wrist and elbow, hurling him off balance and into one of the steel support poles of the covered walkway with an echoing clang and a sickening crunch. He screamed and held at his collar bone, now clearly broken. The tire tool was now in Paul’s possession.

“Knife!” Aaron screamed, seeing the smallest man draw the buck knife from the back of his belt. Paul bent and twisted in an instant, his foot whirling around to catch the assailant suqre in the face and driving him back into the sidewalk of the cargo bed. The knife clattered to the asphalt, and Paul kicked it aside. The stunned man before his groaned and clutched at his nose, blood running down his chin.

The back glass of the vehicle exploded inward as the baseball bat made contact. Heavy boots sounded as a figure in a black leather jacket rounded the far side of the truck.

“What the fuck?” yelled a fourth voice from within the vehicle. Wade’s brother, Floyd, was screaming for the men to get up before being yanked out unceremoniously and slammed face first against the hood of the vehicle. When the barbwire-wrapped baseball bat came down next to his face, the man lost bladder control.

“THIS!!! IS!!! _LUCILLE_!!!” said Coach’s voice, resounding across the empty lot. “She is _badass_! I know this because _I_ am badass, and she is _mine_!” Negan’s voice became low and colder than the freezing air. “If you worthless sacks of shit _ever_ come near my school again, I will turn her loose on you.” He scraped the tines of the barbwire across the hood of the SUV, gouging into the paint job. “If _any_ of you _ever come near my boys again, I will _Turn. Her. Loose. On. You._ Do you fucking _understand_ me, you vermin-ridden shit-hooks? Get on your knees, every _goddamned_ one of you!” The bat came down next to the man’s face again._

__

The assailants immediately complied and staggered, newly revived by the fear coursing through them. Police sirens wailed in the background. “If Rick weren’t on his way, I’d beat one of you motherfucking mouth-breathers to death just to prove how serious I am right now!” He looked over at Aaron, “By the way, man, you’re fucking security guard, the one they call ‘Fat Joey,’ just ran like his ass was on fire.” Coach shook his head and looked over to where Carl and Sophia had gotten out of Daryl’s truck and were holding their phones, Carl talking to his dad, and Sophia recording everything. “Atta boy, Carl!” yelled Coach, holding a thumbs up. “Jody Treadway. Son, are you all right?” Jody nodded from where he and Aaron were watching over Noah. The other boy had a broken nose that was gushing. 

__

Daryl walked over, grabbed Wade Treadway up by the hair, and slammed him back against the vehicle.

__

“Daryl,” came Paul’s voice. Daryl’s breath was fast, promising death or worse, a life wishing for death. “ _Daryl_.” Paul’s voice cut through, not harsh but kind, understanding and grounding. 

__

_They’ll never find you_ ,” Daryl whispered to the man, but he knew the rest heard. He turned to them. “ _None of you_.”

__

Ten minutes later, Rick, Tara, and Shane had arrested the men. Daryl and Paul had offered to let Jody stay with them if he needed, but they totally understood when he had opted to stay with Noah and his family. When they’d all given their statements and parents had arrived, Daryl let Paul drive to Rick’s to drop off Carl and then to Merle’s to drop off Sophia before the pair headed back to the hunter’s house.

__

They walked into the kitchen, the lights in the front windows, the light over the stove, and the holiday lights on the tree and mantle giving faint, ethereal illumination to the decorated house. The fir tree smelled of holiday perfection. Paul put Daryl’s keys in the stone bowl on the counter and walked to the refrigerator to grab a beer. He brought it over, opened it, and handed it to Daryl. 

__

In less than three seconds they were in the living room, jackets abandoned in their tracks on the tiled kitchen floor. Daryl tossed a laughing, horny Paul back down on the large, leather sofa. Paul’s eyes went wide as he heard the silk fabric of Daryl’s shirt rip when flexed his arms and shoulders, hands stopping their furious work at the young actor’s belt.

__

“Ah, shit! Daryl, you fucking ass—“ Daryl’s self-rebuke was doused by Paul’s lips conquering his mouth and the sound of his little ninja snatching apart what was left of the shirt. Buttons went clattering across the hardwood floor.

__

“Don’t! You’re so fucking hot!” Paul said, shuddering as his hands came back to rapidly release the buttons and yank off his own shirt, then return to Daryl’s chest and abs. “Goddamn! Baby, I love your body!” said Paul, words coming through in a desperate, heated whisper as he kissed a line from his jaw down his neck and chest. Paul’s fingers quickly unbuckled his lover’s belt and released the top pants button. Daryl was breathing heavily through his nose. Paul looked up and caught the deep blue eyes through the bangs falling low on Daryl’s face. Daryl watched Paul lick his lips. In the hottest voice Daryl had ever heard, his little actor implored, “Show me I’m yours.”

__

Daryl pushed Paul onto his back on the sofa and snatched off Paul’s shoes and socks. In a flash Paul’s jeans were gone and flying across the room to land on the hearth. Paul’s eyebrows shot up as Daryl grabbed the black underwear, ripped them apart with the strength of a bull, and dropped the remnants to the floor. Daryl leaned in and kissed Paul’s left hipbone, the fingers of his right hand running in the close-trimmed hair before he gripped the base of Paul’s huge, hard cock, squeezed, bringing the desired gasp from his perfect partner.

__

Daryl’s teeth and lips latched down to leave his mark. He could hear Paul’s whines of encouragement spurring him on. When Daryl was satisfied with his mark, he stood and yanked off the rest of his clothes. Paul’s eyes sparkled in the low light of the Christmas tree. Daryl watched a drop of pre-come glisten in the light as it flowed freely from the slit of Paul’s cock. His own cock was hard, his foreskin easing back to reveal the head. Daryl had never known another man with a cock as big as his own, nor a man who would pre-come as much; Paul couldn’t be more perfect.

__

Daryl knelt again and pushed Paul’s legs up and apart. The strapping mechanic leaned in and licked a wide stripe along Paul’s perineum. Paul’s back arched and he exhaled a breath, calling Daryl’s name and reaching down to lock eyes and take a handful of Daryl’s beautiful, chestnut hair. Daryl spat heavily and painted the tight rosebud with the tip of his tongue. Paul’s jaw went slack and his eyes fluttered as his future husband began to worship his hole. Daryl rimmed Paul harder, deeper, loving the whimpers he could illicit and the streaming flow of pre-come that made a rivulet to run and pool in Paul’s navel.

__

_I’m gonna marry this man and make him come with me every day until we’re no more._

__

Daryl reached up with his right hand, two fingers entering Paul’s mouth, making him giggle and teasing his man’s incredibly talented tongue. Paul slathered the digits in anticipation of what was to come. With his left hand, Daryl reached into the cabinet of the lamp table and retrieved the small bottle of lube. He had never been happier about Paul strategically placing the containers around the house for greater accessibility and spontaneity in their sex life. The redneck withdrew his fingers from Paul’s mouth and dispensed lubricant onto them before bringing his fingers back up to edge around tiny muscular star.

__

Paul let out an obscene moan. “Yes, god! Please!”

__

Daryl pressed his middle finger gently inside Paul, turning his hand carefully and bending his finger slightly. He knew exactly how to ease his fingertip against Paul’s prostate.

__

Paul bent forward, but Daryl pressed his huge left hand to Paul’s stomach to force him back down. As Paul fell back, he added the second finger and took Paul’s cock into his mouth as far down as he could go. Daryl’s eyes watered and his heart raced with excitement. Paul began to come apart at the attention. For the next half hour, Daryl edged Paul closer and closer, pulling back only when he felt Paul’s abs constrict and his thighs quivering.

__

“Daryl!” Paul begged. “Take me! Fuck me now! Please!!!”

__

The colossal man stood and pulled Paul up by the hips and flipped him over the arm of the sofa. Paul panted and gripped the throw pillow. Daryl grabbed the lubed and rubbed it well over his cock, lined himself up, and pushed forward. He watched as Paul threw his head back, hair slinging over to his left shoulder. Daryl nearly came when he felt his cock head slide beyond the tight ring of muscle.

__

“Holy _fuck_!” Daryl swore. “You are _so_ fucking tight, baby. Gimme a second... I don't wanna come too fast.” 

__

Paul rose up, reached over his right shoulder, and bought Daryl’s head close to kiss and play with each other’s tongues. Daryl leaned in tight and slowly started thrusting. He reached around to take Paul’s cock and work it back and forth in time with his thrusts.

__

Paul was crying Daryl’s name and professing his love over and over. He begged Daryl to let him cum without a hand. Daryl pulled out, picked Paul up, and pressed him against the wall as he re-entered his gorgeous actor and fucked him hard and fast, adjusting his entry to bring Paul to come; his own climax was too close to deny.

__

Paul grabbed Daryl’s hair and pulled him in, sucking Daryl’s tongue deep into his mouth. “I’m gonna-- Oh, FUCK!!! DARYL!!! FUCK ME!!! I’M COMING!!! AHH!!! AHH!!!” Daryl felt Paul’s hot come shoot between them and he couldn’t hold back, grunting along and crying out with powerful thrusts as he painted Paul’s insides.

__

The two of them rested against the wall as they came down from their orgasms. When they could move again, Daryl carried Paul upstairs. They pissed and cleaned each other up before brushing their teeth. When Paul came back from retrieving their clothes in the living room, Daryl had thrown back the covers, and was lying on his back, his cock, pointing up to the ceiling like a steel girder. Paul smiled and dropped the pile of clothes, his words about finding buttons lost as he followed Daryl’s lead to lie down upon him for mutual head. The sixty-nine session was magnificent, slow and caring. Daryl came hard first, testament to Paul’s powers and magnificent tongue. Paul shot down Daryl’s throat soon after and rolling up to kiss the life from his happy hunter.

__

Once they cleaned up again, the couple settled into bed. Daryl hummed contentedly as Paul’s toes played slightly with his own. It hit him that his little ninja was spooned up behind Daryl exactly the way they had first slept together with Paul lightly kissing and nuzzling his back, an arm under Daryl’s pillow and the other wrapped around him to hold hands against the big man’s chest. After expressing their deepest feelings, the pair fell into deep contented sleep, old scars feeling soothed in body and spirit.

__


	14. Interlocking Loops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul travel out to LA, big scenes are revealed on the show, and awesome changes are in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken a while to get out. School and work have me living my own version of The Handmaid's Tale. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Comments are loved and keep me going! Thanks, and happy reading! 
> 
> XOXO

Paul opened his eyes, stretched lazily, and rolled over; he smiled as he watched Daryl saunter back into the bedroom, carrying two cups of coffee. The handsome mechanic wore a knowing, sexy smile on his face and nothing else. His large, hooded sex caught Paul’s eye, bouncing and swaying heavily with each step. Paul smiled wantonly and leered back as he rose up, taking both cups in hand to make it easier for Daryl to slide back into bed alongside him. Paul returned one cup to his brawny man. 

“Last night was crazy,” Paul started, blowing on the surface of the hot liquid before taking a sip. “Baby, you _saved_ that kid’s life.” He shook his head in amazement at his gorgeous redneck. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Daryl took their cups again and sat them down on the end table before lying back, pulling Paul up on his warm, wide chest, and stroking his little ninja’s face. 

“You saved _my_ life, and not just last night,” Daryl declared, running his fingers through Paul’s long, beautiful hair. “That fucker with the tire iron and the one with the knife? You could have been hurt or worse, Sunshine, but instead, you went all ninja clan master over there.” Daryl ran the thumb of his right hand along Paul’s cheekbone, moving his left below the covers and squeezing Paul’s ass lovingly. “ _That_ was fucking hot!” 

A smile broke over both their faces, and Paul kissed Daryl’s left nipple, then leaned up to kiss his lips. “Oh! Does it hurt this morning?” Paul asked, looking at Daryl’s jawline; amazingly, it was only a little red and not very swollen.

Daryl gave a crooked smile and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “He hit hard, but I’ve had a lot worse.” Paul gave him a sorrowful look, but Daryl chased it away with a quick, sly wink.

“I want to stay in bed and worship you all day, but we better get ready to go so we can meet up with Connor and Dianna,” Paul said. “We got too _distracted_ to get our bags ready last night. We won’t need too much though.”

The pair finished their coffee, enjoyed a quick shower together, and readied their bags. Siddiq arrived to convey the couple to the private field at the King County Airport, where a charter jet waited along with Connor, Dianna, and Murphy. Daryl nudged Paul and nodded to the parking spot where they had shared their first date. 

“If I had told you that night that we’d be flying out of here on a private jet in a few months..?” Paul intoned.

“My head is still spinnin’, Sunshine," Daryl whispered back. "But I’m lovin’ this ride.”

Paul and Murphy helped the pilot stow the group’s bags while Connor and Daryl had a final cigarette before take-off. Dianna took a few great pictures and selfies with each of the party and brought smiles to everyone with her delightful charm. In no time at all, they boarded the comfortable jet and took flight. 

Dianna spoke up to Daryl. He had to admit that he really enjoyed the sweet lady’s accent. “So, Daryl,” she said. “What are we going to do now that these two are having a big, fat, torrid love affair?” Dianna laughed heartily as Connor huffed.

“Fucking tabloids, man,” the actor groused, shaking his head in frustration and taking off his shades. He looked for a reaction from the pair. 

“Oh fuck,” Paul swore. “What’s happened?”

“They’re reporting that you and Connor are having an affair,” Dianna said, laughing at the absurdity.

Daryl looked lost. “Why would they report that?”

“Here,” Murphy said, pulling up a site on his phone. “They think _this_ is Dad.” There was a series of pictures of Daryl kissing Paul. One was outside the gym, another through the window of Barrington House, and a third was while they were saying goodbye after having had lunch together on set. The brawny mechanic was wearing his Wayfarer shades and the “Sex Machine” cap Connor had given him. Paul gasped as for the first time he noted the similarities between the two men. 

“With the shades and that cap, they look a lot alike, right?” Dianna asked, still amused. “You know, Daryl, you could be a body double for Connor.”

“I ain’t that good looking,” Daryl protested humbly. 

“Here,” Dianna said, grabbing Connor’s carry-on bag and taking out his camera. “You guys huddle together.” Connor nearly leapt over to hug up close to Daryl, both in their shades and caps. “This one is called, ‘Twins.’” She took the picture and showed everyone. The two could be brothers, if not twins, although Daryl was the more muscular of the two.

“And this went out in the tabloids?” Paul lamented. “TMZ and ET too?” Connor nodded. 

Paul turned to Daryl. “I’ll get Dante and Victor on this, I promise.” He looked back to Connor. “Let me guess: the network is gonna stay quiet since our episode airs tonight, right?”

“Craig said not to worry,” Connor said. “It’s free publicity for us and the show.” The adorable artist shrugged and tried to lighten the mood. “Hey guys, please don’t let it bother you. At least my girlfriend and my kid are cool with us fucking out in public, ya know? So if I’m murdered, then that means the trial will go fast ‘cause everyone will know Daryl killed me, yeah?”

Daryl finally chuckled and Connor threw an arm around Daryl’s solid shoulders and squeezed in comradery. He laughed out loud with everyone else when Connor leaned in and licked his cheek. Dianna snapped a quick photo, then urged Paul to get between Daryl and Connor while they both licked his cheeks. Paul was grinning like an idiot. 

“Wait! Hold it! There!” Dianna said, clicking another photo. “Look how awesome you guys look!” She turned the camera screen to let everyone see the image. “So hot! Oh, speaking of which, have you guys seen the latest episode?” She fanned herself with her free hand, nodding and closing her eyes as she played up reliving the moment.

“No. We watch them together when they air so that no one tries to pry any spoilers out of us,” Paul stated. “Sometimes we watch them with friends, and occasionally Daryl’s family, and he likes to be in on the same reactions they have.” 

“Well, I can play it, if you guys want,” Connor said. “Plus, I have the final edit of our Ride Along episode that I really want you guys to see. I haven’t even seen this version, but I think it’s gonna be killer.”

“Seeing you and Daryl on film together will probably also quell the rumors,” added Murphy. “My friends are gonna be so disappointed that you aren’t fucking a guy on the side, Dad.”

“This the same one who said that shit?” Connor asked, clearly referring to a story.

Murphy laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Okay, so I’m at home in New York, and I’m driving Murphy and his friend to school one morning. The radio’s playing, their music’s going,” Connor explained. He continued and adjusted his voice to sound like a teenager who was trying to philosophize. “So, they’re in the backseat, and this kid is suddenly like: You know, _One Direction_ is like the _Led Zeppelin_ of our generation.’”

“What?!!” Paul blurted out, appalled. 

“Oh, fuck that bullshit!” Daryl said, his face a rictus of pain.

Dianna and Murphy were rolling laughing at the three men in their lamentations. 

“I know, right?” Connor commiserated. “So, I immediately stopped the car, and I’m like, ‘Dude, get out, now! You’re both walking the rest of the way to school!’ Totally threw both of them out of the car, and made those fuckers walk for saying that fucking shit.”

“And it was cold as fuck!” declared Murphy.

 ** _“Serves y’all right.”_** The ride banked and looped as hearts fell in sync. Daryl was kissing Paul’s forehead when the camera clicked a series of shots. The pair glanced over to see Dianna with a huge smile on her face, wiping her eyes and leaning over to see the images from the moment Connor had just captured. Apparently, they’d once again been so wrapped up in each other that they hadn’t notice the artist had gotten up, asked for the camera, and taken aim to record these precious seconds.

After another drink, Connor lowered the window shades and everyone lounged back in the comfy seats to watch the _Ride Along_ episode. Daryl was understandably bashful about seeing himself react to the new helmet, but he had to admit that the camera-work showed all of them in their best light. They even made Rick look cool, all kicked back in Merle’s sidecar with his new boots. Watching Paul in the new jacket, wearing his wings—his man; that was magnificent. Another shot caught Paul’s mouth-watering ass. He looked utterly amazing, standing next to Daryl with the brawny redneck’s arm curled down around the actor’s waist. The cameras even caught a quiet kiss between the two just after dinner at the inn in Helen. 

“Yeah, it’s official. You guys are like the hottest gay couple on television,” Murphy conceded. Daryl just scoffed and shook his head. 

Connor’s voiceover track was introspective and true to life. The artist exhibited a simplicity in his outlook on life, but Daryl and Paul both knew that Connor’s thoughts ran deep and complex, constantly seeking out the obscure and interesting and finding humor and wonder where others would overlook it. In the end, the episode was nothing short of cool, and Daryl was the first to admit it.

“Well, we’re doing another one next year,” Connor declared. “So get your bikes ready to ride out in the California desert, maybe into Arizona, or even New Mexico. Jeffrey and I want to ride in Spain next year too. I’d really like to get Cher to ride on an episode.”

“Maybe I can call her for ya,” offered Daryl, shrugging his huge shoulder in a humble, off-hand gesture. “I met her at the charity event back in September. She gave me her number.”

Connor’s mouth fell open. “You guys have _Cher’s_ number?”

Daryl nodded. Paul pointed to him. “Daryl does indeed.”

“What? Holy fuck! Let’s call her!” Connor cried, then he thought better. “Okay, let’s land first, but yeah. I would really appreciate it.”

“Okay, you guys have to see this,” Dianna said, refilling the drinks as Murphy started the _Death Ascendant_ episode. 

_The first moving truck pulls forward and slows to wait for the one behind it. A figure lies poised to move but stays as flat to the truck as he must in order to avoid detection: Merlin, in black trench coat and gloves. The second truck pulls forward, Charlie sitting between Waylon and another Crusader. The leader yells from the passenger side over to a haggard and battered Davy._

_“I’m takin’ Mick’s brat back home, safe and sound!”_

_“You hurt him—“ Davy threatens._

_“And you’ll do what?” Waylon spits back, grinning poisonously._

_Davy glares back, murder in his eyes._

_“That’s what I thought. Yo, DeWitt! Davy here needs a time out! Take him back to his cell until he decided he’s wants to be one of us.” Waylon’s words are ominous as he slaps the side of the truck, signaling for the drive to roll out as he sneers mockingly at the tortured captive. Davy glares back for all the good it will do. Suddenly, something catches his eye—movement on top of the truck. DeWitt grabs him roughly by the back of the grungy, mildewed sweatshirt and pulls him back into the yard of the Abby, home of the dreaded Crusaders._

_The truck trundles on, its roof now devoid of a certain stowaway._

_A few scenes later, Merlin does a trick in a dark area of the Abby, spooking and terrifying a couple of Crusaders. Then he catches DeWitt’s wife, Carrie, smoking in the stairwell. He agrees to help her escape and leave notice for DeWitt if she directs him to Davy’s cell._

_Beyond a scene with Mick and Darren, Merlin sneaks Carrie out by way of an old sewer tunnel, killing the zombies there to clear her path. He gives her an address for an old shelter, a loaded gun, and wishes her luck. Managing to steal a set of keys from one of the Crusaders he had scared earlier, Merlin finds Davy’s cell, unlocks it, and releases the biker. Davy is unsure; it’s clear that he’s been subjected to both physical trauma and emotional anguish. The music in the hall keeps blaring a stupid song about “Easy Street” or some such shit, over and over. He blinks and reaches up to touch Merlin’s beautiful face, unsure if this is real or not; sleep deprivation and the guilt from the Polaroid picture of Finn’s bashed in head have been the man’s only constant companions. Merlin starts to speak, but Davy leans forward, taking the only chance he may ever get and kissing the scout dead on the mouth. It is startling and raw. It is also a revelation. The moment is breathtaking. Merlin takes Davy from the cell, locks it back, and goes to DeWitt’s room as he was directed by Carrie. They find Davy something to eat. Merlin catches Davy’s glare at the empty dog food tins next to stale bread. He quickly finds Davy some clothes that will do and the keys to Davy’s motorcycle._

Daryl felt Paul squeeze his hand. He brought the hand up and kissed it, before giving Connor a high-five and applauding the scene with Dianna and Murphy.

_A couple of scenes thereafter, Merlin guides Davy to the motor pool. Davy finds his bike and uses the key they found in DeWitt’s room. They are discovered by accident. Davy instantly snatches up a nearby metal rod. The Crusader--Big Jody--stammers something about just trying to survive, to get by. Davy eyes him sharply and proceeds to bludgeon the fat Crusaders to death, recognizing him as the one who took Mick’s Colt Anaconda .44 magnum revolver. Two men rush in, surprised by the scene, and by a free Davy, just before two heavy knives tumble through the air to strike each in the throat—Merlin’s handiwork. Davy barely registers any of this and keeps bashing the Crusader in the head over and over in murderous fury._

_“Davy,” Merlin calls softly, reaching out of hand and gently touching the man’s shoulder. "Davy!" The stricken, battered biker looks back and rears up with the rebar, ready to strike at the new target before recognition breaks on his face._

_“Merlin? Are--are you really here?” Davy sniffs, voice cracking and rough._

_Merlin nods, steps closer, and touches his cheek. “I’m still with you.”_

_Davy nods, then leans down to take back Mick’s revolver. Merlin follows him over as Davy begins to crank up the motorcycle that was his. “This place ain’t about getting’ by,” Davy declares hatefully. “It’s about getting’ it all!” They take off together on the bike._

_Back at the Summit and Berringer Home, Davy has cleaned up and had his wounds tended. He’s met with Maddie, Sonya, and Astrid. Maddie has assured him that Finn’s death was not on him. The biker seems to accept that for the moment. That night, he cannot stay inside the trailer; Davy sits quietly on a picnic table at the end of the FEMA trailer next door._

_“Nice night.” The soft, accented voice cuts through the shadow. Davy turns to look, but sees nothing. Turning back, Merlin is seated beside him._

_Davy jumps to his feet, his pent up rage the culmination of the torture and the losses he has endured coming to a head. “What you want with me?” Davy asks roughly, swallowing hard._

_Merlin answers softly, trying to sooth the man’s spirit. “Davy, I care about you—“_

_“Stop it! Shut up! I ain’t—!!!”_

_Davy lashes out, anger, fear, a storehouse of bottled frustration unleashing with reckless abandon. Merlin counters, parries, dodges. Davy pressed his attack, and Merlin lets him do so until he’s physically spent, unable to do anything but fall to the ground and cry silently._

_“Damn you, Marv!” the redneck sobs. "Coulda been happy. Shoulda told him..." Davy latches onto Merlin at the knees and cries his soul out._

_Merlin kneels down and cradles the bigger man. “Let it out. They have no power over you; not the Crusaders, not your brother's ghost. The past is gone. Take the good, forget the bad. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever—“ The kiss was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. After a second, Davy pulls back, ashamed and regretful. Merlin catches his face._

_“I know. I can see it. The pain, the shame, the loneliness,” Merlin whispers. Davy’s eyes are full of tears again. Merlin pulls Davy in close and holds the man’s head to his chest. “I’m here, and I promise: I will never let anyone lay hands on you again.”_

_Davy grabs Merlin by the coat and pulls him close. Heavy panting slows, replaced by another deep, hard kiss. Clothes start to come off in a rush. Merlin slows the man, nuzzling up under his jaw. “We have all the time in the world.”_

_“Hey, wait! Somebody might see us!” Davy whispers, his worry evident._

_“Shh,” Merlin soothes, and in a heated, sultry whisper retorts, “Maybe they’ll learn something!” The pair begin making out in earnest with Davy lying down on top of Merlin, both men bare-chested and exuberant. Davy’s hand slips down under the waistband of Merlin’s pants and the man’s back arches as he lets out a shuddering sigh. The redneck pulls down the trickster’s jeans and shoves his own down, getting between Merlin’s legs and lying back down on top of the magician to kiss and nip at each other. It is clear from the movement of his hips that Davy is starting to enter and fuck Merlin._

_The next morning, the rest of the Atlanta crew arrives from the nearby Arlington community. Mick is elated to hear that his best friend is free from Waylon and the Crusaders, all thanks to Merlin. He makes his way around, searching for his best friend. He steps into Merlin’s trailer. He hears noises coming from the shower, and worried, Mick decides to go on in; he has to see for himself that Davy is alive and well. He opens the bathroom door and finds Merlin and Davy naked, with Merlin up behind the man, clearly fucking Davy up against the wall of the shower, pulling hair, kissing, biting. Both are coming down from their orgasms, and both are caught completely by surprise at seeing Mick standing there. Mick’s open mouth just turns to a shit-eating grin._

_“Well, hey boys!” Mick says with a wink._ The episode ends.

“Holy _fuck_! You know I’m pre-coming right now, right?” Daryl whispered hotly in Paul’s ear. 

“Me too,” Paul mouthed back. He was turning red. As they looked over, so was Connor as Dianna stroked his goatee. 

“Did I not tell you how sexy this episode was?” Dianna asked. Everyone agreed wholeheartedly.

“Yeah man, that was hot as fuck!” Connor declared, fist-bumping Paul.

The plane started its final approach to Bob Hope Airport in Burbank, and the conversation had progressed to Connor’s birthday bash down in Costa Rica. Paul assured them all that Daryl’s passport would be ready by the time they returned to Senoia. He also made a mental note to take Murphy and Dianna aside for gift ideas for Connor, and if they didn’t have any, the show’s new villain, Jeffrey Dean Morris, probably would, along with Andy Kennedy. Dianna described the villa in which they would all be staying. It was beachside, had six guest rooms, a pool, hot tub for ten, big kitchen, and a private garden court yard. The place was also out of the way and had a private beach, although it was not too far from a popular beach. While that was preferable, Connor admitted that it wasn’t completely paparazzi-proof. Regardless, he was excited to teach Daryl how to surf. Daryl was just as excited about the prospect of learning to surf, particularly from a friend like Connor. Murphy wanted to try flyboarding. Paul admitted that he wanted to try as well, hoping his gymnastics and martial arts training would help him balance. He also promised Connor that he’d make sure it was safe before letting Murphy try any kind of sketchy ride.

Once they had landed, secured their things, including Connor’s cat, the group exchanged goodbye hugs and kisses and split up, making plans to meet back up together for dinner before heading to the studio for the _Death Transcendent_ live airing. A limousine service picked both groups up in two black SUVs with dark tinted windows right on the tarmac just as two cars drove in with photographers taking a flurry of pictures. Security pulled in right behind them, one vehicle cutting off the escape. Paul shook his head and grumbled to Daryl that the tabloids had enough money to pay the heavy federal fines for trespassing. 

Paul’s two-story house stood overlooking the reservoir and park in Silver Lake. A realty sign was already posted; next to the house another sign read “Open House 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM Today.” The house was very modern, bottom floor of stonework and stucco, top floor wood and tall windows. The top floor jutted out wider than the floor below it. The interior had a clean, spacious feel with relaxed furnishings, high ceilings, four full bed-rooms, and three full baths. The place was about the same square footage as Daryl’s—although the bedrooms were much smaller—but certainly nowhere near the size of the rental house Paul had been staying in back out from Senoia. Paul noted that the outside of the house, the driveway, and the back patio had been recently pressure-washed. Cute cacti, desert blossoms, and succulents decorated the little flower gardens around the house. The tiny lawn was freshly cut and fertilized. 

Paul led Daryl to the master bedroom on the main floor to put away their things. It held a modern furniture set of light-blonde oak, made in Italy, and a queen-sized bed covered in a light gray comforter with silvery, metallic embroidery and large, fluffy pillows. They decided to put away their things, go out to get a late breakfast, tour around a while, and grab a few items to get through the night as they would be leaving early the next day. 

In order to miss the open house activity, Paul and Daryl went out and ate a nice breakfast at _Millie’s Café_ , the same place where they’d met up with Daniel just a couple of months ago on Daryl’s first trip out to LA. Instead of shopping on Rodeo Drive, Paul took Daryl out to the La Brea Tar Pits and the museum there. Then, they took in a walk along the shore at Venice Beach and perused the boardwalk before taking off their shoes, rolling up their pants legs, and strolling out onto the sand. Hand in hand, the beautiful couple walked out to step into the water’s edge, feeling the sea foam roll over their bare feet. 

Despite putting his hair up in a messy bun, people began to recognize Paul. Several people even mistook Daryl for Connor, much to his surprise. When the paparazzi arrived, they took off together and went back to cruise around Hollywood, courtesy of Paul and the Lyft ride he ordered up. They strolled for a while up Sunset Blvd and turned on Vine. Daryl perked up when he saw a shop. Pulling Paul’s hand, he got his gorgeous actor’s attention. 

“Let me buy you something,” Daryl said, inclining his head toward the tattoo shop. Paul looked at the smile breaking on his face, and nodded, pulling Daryl close for a kiss before they dashed inside.

“Actually, I hear this one is really good,” Paul said.

Daryl paid for four simple script tattoos, two for each of them. He let Paul choose where he want them put on Daryl, and he had them mirrored on Paul. “Sunshine” was printed just under Paul’s right collarbone, while Daryl had “Superman” written in the same place. Paul’s name now rested on Daryl’s right hip along the Atlas belt, and Daryl’s marked Paul. Running out of time before they had to get ready, the pair rushed back to Paul’s house to get ready for the evening.

“Over there’s the homeless center in West Hollywood that I started volunteering at on holidays when I wasn’t working,” Paul said to Daryl, pointing the place out on their way back to his house. Daryl followed his lover’s direction and nodded. “I spent many a Thanksgiving there. It hit me how lucky I’d been when I was stressing out over not having a job and almost losing my new house for the first time. To be honest, I almost lost my house four different times. It was hard to pay for it. My folks wanted to help out, but they had already paid for my college, and I just couldn’t accept their help. It wasn’t a pride thing, it was—“ Paul searched for the right turn of phrase.

“You needed to prove it to yourself,” Daryl said, filling in the thought. “Even if you lost it, you’d learn more from it.”

“I love you, Superman,” Paul said, kissing Daryl in thanks for his support and understanding.

Daryl sucked at Paul’s lower lip, then replied, “You’re my Sunshine, and I love you more’n anything.”

When they got back to the house, Paul made sure their outfits were ready for the evening, then packed up most everything else. Daryl brought him a glass of water.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hmm?” Paul turned back and accepted the glass, taking a sip. “Oh! Thanks, Superman.”

“Mind if I ask you something?” 

Paul turned back, sat the glass on the kitchen table, put his arms around his handsome mechanic’s neck, and pulled the big man close, resting their foreheads together. “You can always ask me anything.” 

Daryl kissed Paul furiously several times, picking him up and placing him on the kitchen counter before pulling back to continue speaking. “How much you owe on this place?” Daryl gestured to the house in general.

“It’s paid for,” Paul said.

Daryl blinked, and nodded. “Mine too.”

“Between my fourth movie, my second season on _Heisenberg_ , and all the conventions I started doing, I got paid really well. I put nearly everything into paying off the house and my credit cards,” Paul explained. “All $1.39M worth of it. I saved and invested everything else that I could, and I lived simply the rest of the time. With my house being paid for, I was able to save tons quickly.”

“When Merle and I started out, we were barely getting by,” Daryl confessed. “I was living on people’s couches.” Paul lifted Daryl’s left arm up and kissed the inside of his wrist, conveying a sense of comfort. “When I finally got the store up, I lived in my office ‘til Rick ratted me out to Carol. She was so goddamn pissed at me. Rick offered to house us full-time. Told ‘em I’d only stay until everything was running. Rick and Lori had a new baby, and I knew they needed to have time to be a family without me and Merle loomin’ around, but Lori helped us get an apartment. In two years, I had the loan under control and bought a bigger shop—the one we got now. After five years, Merle and I were making good money. I bought my house and paid it off in three years. I paid off my truck and new bike the next year. Fifteen years now, and still goin’ strong.”

“The realtor has set the price at $3.6M,” Paul declared. “She says the place has appeal as being the home of a star.” He rolled his eyes. “I think she’s overestimating my—“

Daryl placed a finger over Paul’s lips, shaking his head. “You _are_ a star.” He kissed Paul softly.

 ** _“You’re my star.”_** The ride came off the rails. Daryl had Paul’s pants down, sucking and stroking him voraciously. Paul cried out his love and adoration, fingers gripping tight in Daryl’s chestnut hair as he came hard, ecstatic tears flowing all the while. Daryl swallowed the load before coming back up to conquer Paul’s mouth with his own, letting him taste his come on Daryl’s tongue.

As he eased Paul down, Daryl took Paul’s face by the chin in one large hand. He had Paul’s total attention, the actor’s eyes wet with tears of joy. “I want that land to be ours. I want us to build our house there. I want us to think about having a family. I mean to make you happy and make love together for the rest of our days.”

“I’m gonna need your ring size, Mr Dixon,” Paul whispered as the tears fell down his face again.

“You gone get it.” Daryl smiled, chuckled, and kissed Paul again several times before noting that it was time to get ready to go. 

The pair took a quick shower, being particular of their bandages. An hour later, they met up with Connor, Dianna, and Murphy at The Dresden for a truly delightful dinner. Murphy was talking about how he wanted to be a director like Craig Nicoletti. Connor and Dianna had pictures of the birthday villa in Costa Rica. Daryl and Paul called Cher for Connor, introduced him and his show, and handed the phone to the stunned artist. He was tickled to actually get her to agree to be in at least part of a Ride Along episode. Connor paid the entire bill, then he and Paul left $200 each in cash tips for the service, both knowing what it had been like to be starving artists.

At the studio, Daryl, Dianna, and Murphy watched the episode again. When the big reveal happened, the audience reaction was huge, although some cries of disappointment were inevitable as some fans had been hoping for a different pairing. During the last commercial break before the end of the episode, _Death Transcendent_ host, Chris Harding, appeared before the studio audience to give instructions. A few minutes later, Harding made a live TV spot announcement to start the aftershow and announced the guests: Connor, Paul, and special guest, the comedienne, Yvette Nichols-Brown, joining him for the evening. When the show actually began, the crowd went wild. It didn’t help that Yvette, in full comedic fashion, sighed in defeat, stood up, and change places on the couch with Paul to that he and Connor were seated next to each other. Connor, hamming it up, drew Paul over close to lie back onto Connor’s chest. Paul winked over at Daryl. His beautiful redneck just shook his head as he laughed along next to Murphy and Dianna. Harding finally got the crowd under control enough to start the talk show.

“So, wow!” Chris exclaimed. “Connor!” Paul sat back up off of his friend and colleague so Connor could answer. “For years now, everyone has been speculating: Is Davy gay, is he just not even interested in anyone romantically, is he straight and pining away for Cheryl or regretting not having taken a chance with Bette? So, what’s the real deal here?”

“Well, look—I mean, have you seen him?” Connor countered, hooking a thumb at Paul. The audience erupted yet again. “Dude’s freakin’ _hot_!”

“He is pretty and so well- _groomed_ for the apocalypse!” joked Yvette as she stroked Paul’s hair dramatically. 

“Those eyes,” sighed Harding, putting his hand inside his blazer to mimic a thumping heart. “Yeah, that could make me hop the fence.”

“As for Davy, whether he’s gay or bi or whatever—personally, I play him as if he’s gay,” Connor explained. “He’s just had to hide it and repress this part of himself and his feelings all his life, and he’s really been damaged by his upbringing, and Marv—even though he really loved his brother—Marv was part of that old pain. But this world is all or nothing now, and Davy knows that he’s got to be his own man. Mick’s shown him that, Finn’s shown him that, Isaac’s shown him that. And when he’s seeing Merlin, he’s at the final point where it’s really his last chance and he just goes for it with this guy he’s been really interested in for so long—“

“Wait,” Harding interrupted, further clarifying, “You’re saying Davy has been interested in Merlin for some time?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Connor answered.

“Chris!” Yvette broke in with sarcastic exasperation. “Do you actually pay attention when you watch this show?” The audience laughed heartily at Harding’s look of surprise. “No, no! This makes so much sense now. All the little clues and hints we’ve been seeing, like Merlin leaving Davy the cigarettes and Davy asking him when he’d be coming back around. Ooh! There was also that business in the hallway where Davy straightened up and sorta shows off his physique a little when he’s watching Merlin walk down the stairs. Yeah, you know I caught that, boo.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, that was right when Isaac asked Davy if he was thinking about settling down, and Davy looks over and sees Merlin coming down the stairs, looking like this badass angel—we added in the shirt change as Merlin walks along; that was Paul’s idea,” Connor confessed. “Craig loved it, and he kept it in, and as for Davy, seeing that—that was just it for him, even though he tried to play it off.”

“That’s also why Isaac just sort of scoffed at Davy’s answer when he was trying to play it cool and deflect with that business about ‘You think shit’s settled?’” added Yvette.

Paul and Connor nod, admitting the purposeful set ups.

“I’m still holding out for poor Cheryl,” Yvette muttered. 

“Okay, Paul,” Harding started. “We all want to know, were you guys actually naked in these scenes, or did you get the whole junk-sock treatment? Because, we remember hearing that Connor doesn’t like to use those.”

Paul grinned back. Connor looked at him and asked, “Can I answer this?” 

“Sure,” Paul relinquished.

“I _hate_ those things,” Connor stated. “They’re ridiculous and annoying, so I don’t use them. Plus, Paul’s didn’t fit _enough_ , if you catch my drift. So…” Connor shrugged and held up his hands while Harding, Yvette, and the audience began hooting and hollering.

Paul just shrugged and laughed a little. “I’m not the only one whose sock wouldn’t fit, but…” Even more hooting and hollering ensued. Connor hid his face in his hands and Paul continued. “But to answer your question: No, neither of us wore those sock things. They were distracting and called even more attention to our dicks than not, so we just threw them aside and did our scenes like the total professionals we are. Meanwhile, the crew are trying not to look at our stuff.”

“Did either of you, you know, get—how best to ask this?” Chris began.

Connor looked at Paul, and Paul shrugged.

“Well, I mean—yeah, we both got hard a couple of times there,” Connor admitted, trying to sound nonchalant as the audience broke into another wave of wolf-whistles and howls. The artist hid his face in his hands again as he turned scarlet and leaned over to let Paul hold him in his lap, both laughing and getting through the audience reaction before sitting back up.

“I can say that we were as true to the spirit of the scenes as we could be,” Paul said. “But we were not shooting gay porn.”

“And now, I’m gonna need security, because his boyfriend is built like a Mack truck,” said Connor.

“He really loves you, you know,” said Paul.

“I love him too,” Connor admitted. “And Dianna and Murphy love you guys a bunch.”

The audience gave a collective “Aww” as Connor hugged Paul and kissed his cheek.

“And one more thing,” Paul added. “All that grime and dirt is suntan oil and stage makeup. Davy may look grungy, but this guy is meticulous and smells divine. As for Davy, just send him to my trailer. As you can see from the last scene, I got this.” That got a big laugh.

"Well, there you have it folks!" said Harding as he closed the segment. "If you're playing along on Death Ascendant Rewards dot com, tonight's code word is 'Hey Boys.' That's it for tonight's episode. I want to thank our guests: Yvette Nichols-Brown, Paul Rovia, and Connor Reedus. I'm Chris Harding, wishing you a great evening and reminding you to take care of yourselves and each other. Thanks, and have a good night!"

Paul and Daryl went out for drinks and dessert with Connor and his family, Chris and his wife, and Yvette. Afterwards, the couple went back home, treated their new tattoos again, and got into bed together, sharing their favorite moments from the big day.

That night, Daryl looked up at the world’s most beautiful man hovering over him, hair mostly swept over to the right side. Those pink, full lips parted, showing perfect teeth in a smile meant just for Daryl. He looked into Paul’s glorious, misty, blue-green eyes, and couldn’t help himself as the tear fell from the corner of his eye. Daryl gave a big sniff and sucked at his bottom lip, nearly dying outright as Paul stroked the left side of his face. 

“Because,” Paul answered, choking up himself at Daryl’s unspoken question: _Why me?_

 ** _“You make me whole.”_** Gravity was just a spectator, unable to catch how high the ride ascended

The words became the mantra of their love-making for the rest of the night. For the next hour, Paul proceeded to suck and ride Daryl’s magnificent cock, bringing the both of them to climax twice before letting Daryl sleep for a while as Paul watched over him and quietly delighted in his luck to have such a man. Unable to resist, Paul woke Daryl with kisses down his spine to end with a rimjob for the record books. When Daryl couldn’t take it any longer, Paul finally relented and entered him, fucking him long and slow and pacing each other until they came together. They final caught another couple of hours of sleep before the alarm went off. They changed the bedding, caught a shower, dressed, and ordered a limo to LAX for 7:35 AM flight back to Atlanta that Monday morning.


	15. Air-Time Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul race to the rescue as they face mother nature's cold shoulder and put themselves out there to do the right thing, resulting in the first increases to their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS ARE FUEL!!!
> 
> WARNINGS: (1) A frank opinion about masturbation is shared in a conversation with the teens--IT IS IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM EROTIC MATERIAL, NOR IS IT DESCRIBED--EWWW!!!! No-pants scenes are reserved for the consenting, legal, and much more erotically fabulous adults. So there. (2) Animal abuse mentioned and after-effects descriptions. (Not committed by our heroes!) Thank goodness for Dr Greene!
> 
> Also, I am not a veterinarian, and I know anti-freeze has changed. The methods mentioned here are for story purposes only and the rescue efforts for poison control are not recommended; if faced with this, please seek professional assistance! In a way, it's a shout out to a recent episode of FTWD.

Daryl heard the strange, high-pitched, whirring noise coming from the kitchen as he entered through the inside garage door; it definitely wasn’t one of the vacuum robots. He and Paul were supposed to meet back over at the rental to move some more of Paul’s things over into Daryl’s house. The brawny mechanic nearly had a heart attack when he saw Paul’s legs on the floor, sticking out from around the counter bar. 

“Paul? _Paul_!” he yelled, rushing over. Relief flooded the brawny mechanic when he stopped to find his perfect man lying on the floor with his arm deep in the refrigerator’s lower freezer compartment, totally oblivious and bee-bopping along to music with his earbuds in, his hair up in an adorably messy bun. The noise was coming from a hair dryer.

Paul started. “Oh! Shit! Hey, Superman!” cried Paul, smiling as he took the earbuds out and turned off the dryer. “You scared me.”

Daryl puffed a breath. “Now you know how _I_ feel. Shit, baby. What the hell are you doing down there?”

Paul took the hair dryer and a sopping wet bath towel out of the compartment and closed the door, then got to his feet as he explained, “Well, when I got here and found water on the floor. The freezer section had iced up and pushed the door slightly open, which just made things even worse. I’ve been trying to defrost it, but I think we need professional help here in the next few days.”

Daryl nodded. The place was a rental, but neither one of them would just dump a major appliance issue on the owner without at least trying to fix it first. 

“Call Regina over at _Girl Power_ ,” Daryl suggested. “She fixed the control board in my dishwasher last spring. That sucker runs like new.”

Paul stepped up on his toes, slid his arms around Daryl’s neck, and kissed the handsome hunter before him. “You always know just what to do.” He could taste the cinnamon gum Daryl had chewed instead of having the cigarette. 

Daryl slowly wrapped his beautiful actor up in his god-like arms. He deepened the kiss, inviting Paul’s tongue into his mouth to play with his own. When Paul started kissing and licking down his throat, Daryl mused, “It’s gonna be a sad day when we leave this place behind and ain’t got no hot tub to fuck in.”

Paul’s low, throaty laugh against his neck was pure sex. Daryl’s jeans became tight and uncomfortably restraining. “Sounds like we better make the most of it while we can,” Paul suggested, adding, “And it just so happens that I made sure it was cleaned and serviced and turned up to the perfect temperature.”

Daryl smiled wide, chuckled deep in his chest, and picked Paul up, turning to look over his little ninjas shoulder to find fingers of steam streaming gently out from under the cover on the hot tub.

“Lube didn’t freeze up, did it?” Daryl asked.

“I dropped the bottle in the water to warm it up this morning,” Paul answered hotly into Daryl’s left ear, before sucking the ear lobe twice and pulling back to face his handsome man. He found Daryl’s deep, ocean-blue eyes looking at him with deepest adoration.

Daryl’s hands found the hair tie holding up Paul’s hair and gently removed it, letting Paul’s glorious hair fall free so that he could run his fingers through it. “Let me take you out back to that tub and show you how much I love you,” Daryl said, his voice as serious as ever as his looked back into Paul’s glorious eyes. 

Paul smiled softly and nodded as he began to unzip Daryl’s coveralls while the pair exchanged kisses and sucked at one another’s lips. Daryl helped to relieve Paul of his t-shirt. He gave Paul a crooked smile when he noticed the big bath towels sitting folded on the kitchen table next to the patio door. Their stiff erections were unfazed by the cold evening air as they folded back the lid and slid into the pain-stealing warmth of the bubbling water within. 

Daryl eased over on his knees finding Paul’s strong, taut body below the churning water. He ran his fingers over Paul’s pecs, enjoying the way his handsome actor responded, breath quickening, pupil’s widening, abs tightening, a low moan pulled from a place of happiness. Daryl’s hands trailed down to Paul’s hips; he massaged them and stroked the tops of Paul’s thighs, pulling the smaller man close to taste their kisses and share each other’s breath. Paul latched onto Daryl’s neck like a starving vampire, the resulting love bite marking Daryl as his and only his. With his left hand, he stroked Daryl’s right pec and pinched at his nipple, causing the hunter to shudder and quake. Paul’s right hand found its way down below Daryl’s balls, his middle finger caressing Daryl’s entrance and making his wonderful man grit his teeth and groan.

“Yeah!” Daryl exhaled. “Uh-huh!”

Paul pressed his finger into the tiny star of muscle, easing into the warm channel as he sucked Daryl’s tongue into his mouth. Daryl’s lusty whimpers started to fill the cold air around them. “Oh god, Paul!” 

Paul eased Daryl back in the warm water. The gorgeous redneck got his arms below himself along the edge of the pre-formed fiberglass seat to hold himself up as he floated, his head flinging back to slosh and loll in the water when Paul’s tongue met with his prize. Daryl’s huge, thick phallus was a ship’s mast, standing straight and tall. Paul reach up his left hand to firmly, slowly milk the pre-come out. 

Daryl growly and arched his back, clearly ready to get this show on the road. Paul found the lubricant and applied a generous amount to his two fingers. Staring Daryl in the eyes, his beautiful actor eased both fingers inside his gorgeous redneck’s warmth while flicking his tongue at the slit of Daryl’s turgid member, tasting the clear, flowing honey with delight. 

“I’m ready!” Daryl cried out, beckoning. The big man was barely able to speak. “C’mon, Sunshine! I’m so ready! I gotta have you—I need you in me, baby!”

Paul pulled Daryl in closer, lining his own throbbing cock up to Daryl’s entrance and pressing slowly past the smooth, tight ring. Paul shuddered an exhale, his eyes fluttering as he felt the blessed, wet heat. He held Daryl’s left hip and reached around to stroke his perfect partner’s huge cock with his right hand. 

When he was all the way in, Paul bent in to take part of Daryl’s large size into his mouth. One of Paul’s hidden talents was how limber he was, thanks to the gymnastics and martial arts classes he’d been allowed to attend growing up. 

Paul slid his fantastic cock in and out, moving slowly to let Daryl acclimate to its dimensions, and all the while sucking Daryl’s rock-hard manhood, wanting it to last forever. Within a couple of minutes, his brawny man was urging Paul to pick up the pace and fuck him ruthlessly. Paul obliged Daryl enthusiastically, straightening up and starting to pound himself into Daryl. Paul changed their position, and Daryl straddled his legs and lowered himself back onto Paul’s rock-hard cock. Paul kissed Daryl’s mouth, stroking his thick length as his own cock eased in an out of Daryl’s tight hole. Paul lifted Daryl up out of the water completely and lay him on his back at the edge of tub, he started to piston himself in a rapid motion. Daryl felt his abs start to convulse, warmth moving lower to his cock and balls. Paul’s mouth was open, and he began to cry out as he came inside of Daryl, water splashing wildly at the sound of his hips clapping against Daryl’s succulent ass. Feeling Paul’s orgasm flood him, Daryl’s cock jerked; strings of pearly essence marked both of their chests and stomachs, even Paul’s lips, which he licked and then shared with Daryl in a deep kiss. They sunk back into the frothing water together, kissing and stroking for the next few moments, luxuriating in each other.

“Did you call the house phone earlier?” Paul asked.

“Nah,” Daryl replied, shaking his head

“There were sixty-three calls with no message on the voicemail over the last four days,” said Paul. “I figured it was some kind of automated messenger messing up.”

“Probably,” Daryl agreed. “Anybody who needs to get hold of us knows our cell numbers.”

“You want to go get dressed and get something to eat?” Paul asked as the timer ended the cycle and the bubbles stopped.

“ _Waffle House_?” Daryl suggested.

“That’s fine,” Paul replied, smiling. “You feeling a breakfast vibe this evening, baby?”

“Nah,” Daryl said, shaking his head, reaching over, and restarting the jets. As Daryl rose from the water, Paul saw that his magnificent man was fully hard again. “But they’re open later.” He pulled Paul to him, reached down, and took hold of Paul’s cock, feeling it swell again. The handsome mechanic lifted his beautiful lover from the water enough to suck the fantastic cock that had fucked him so perfectly. He tongued Paul’s foreskin until it had pulled back completely, his little ninja hard as steel once more. Turning Paul over, Daryl let him rest on his elbows with most of his body in the warm water. 

He fucked Paul slow and deep at first, trying to make everything last forever. Reaching around Paul and stroking him under water got even more vulgar sighs and moans. 

“Sure you didn’t do porn, Sunshine?” Daryl joked, making a few porn sounds of his own.

Paul burst out laughing, splashed water back at a chortling Daryl, and changed positions to get back on Daryl’s cock. This time, Paul was facing his perfect partner so that he could ride Daryl’s giant cock and kiss the life from him. He matched Daryl in both speed and intensity. Daryl rose out of the water, holding Paul up under his knees and continuing his thrusts. 

“ _Fuck_! I’m gonna come!” Daryl barely got the harsh, growl out just before he blasted his second round into Paul’s tight warmth. He never stopped fucking Paul until after his beautiful actor released again between them. 

The _Waffle House_ double-orders of hash browns (scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, and peppered) were awesome.

By the end of the week, December had arrived and much cooler weather with it. Daryl’s accountant, Milton Mamet, had gone over the books twice and let Daryl know that his final business capital loan had been paid off early; that meant that Daryl was clear and able to raise salaries and issue even better holiday bonuses. He also recommended that Daryl take on at least three new employees and think about expanding the shop, given the amount of business they had recently taken on and the fact that he knew Daryl and Merle needed to be able to have more time off. That meant a shop manager and at least two more mechanics. Additionally, the employees and owners of _Dixon Brothers Motor Professionals_ received much larger holiday bonuses than had originally been expected. On paper, Daryl was now a millionaire, something he scoffed at as him just being stingy where he needed to be and buying big things that lasted and could be paid off quickly while he did without. Milton had assured him that given the new doubled salaries the two owners were due, he could have well over four million just in cash by the time he retired, more if he and Merle sold the business. That last option was complete anathema to Daryl. He’d also been on the fence about Merle swimming in cash, but his big brother had more than proved his ability to manage money, especially with Carol and Sophia as part of his immediate family.

The next Monday, Paul moved in with Daryl completely, and for the first time, Daryl felt really good about the holiday season, more so than in any time he could recall in his adult life; coming home to the beautifully decorated house and finding Paul there hit the rednecks heartstrings like a cannon, and he knew that Paul felt the same about him. Best of all, Paul received and accepted an offer on his LA house well above asking price; meanwhile, the couple’s offer on the land and house they wanted had been accepted by the bank. They would close the day before they left for Costa Rica. Jacqui would have the new house layout ready by the time they returned, and Guillermo would be able to break ground and start the new foundation by mid-January with an estimated construction time of five months. Paul had already ordered a bedroom suit from a luxury furniture company in Sweden that would take three months to manufacture and ship out, and he and Daryl were looking for an interior designer to help them plan and furnish their new home. Daryl asked Jacqui to add a gazebo out back and bought a hot tub to be installed at the new house.

The pair went Christmas shopping in Atlanta with Rick and Michonne on Saturday, and the couple returned by themselves on Sunday to visit two different jewelers, making sure to set appointments to go in privately. Paul didn’t want any tabloid media giving them grief over shopping for rings. Daryl also managed to sneak in several purchases for Paul’s upcoming birthday.

Paul flew out to New York and stayed with Connor and Dianna for two days while shooting a commercial for a high end rum. Daryl had a feeling they were both taking advantage of the time apart to get in some surprise gifts. Being in bed alone, however, was rough for the both of them. 

Thank god for video calls and Skype. Daryl just shook his head when Paul admitted to having to buy a new laptop computer after his fell into the tub due to complete personal dumbass-ery. Neither could wait to get back to one another.

On Monday, the weather report issued a warning for a potential ice storm followed by heavy snowfall, starting Thursday afternoon. Every few years, north Georgia received a decent snow, but on occasion, it was far worse: ice. Although such instances would typically occur in mid to late January, it was not uncommon for it to happen as early as late November. That could mean closed roads, downed lines, and power outages for days at a time. Paul and Daryl made sure to stock both houses just in case Daryl’s place or any of their friends and family lost power. Eric and Jared called on Wednesday to announce that in true Georgia fashion, every gallon of milk, carton of eggs, and loaf of bread had been bought out at the grocery store as if the world were going to have to subsist on French toast for the next week. Paul assured the master stylists that they and their other halves were always welcome to stay with them; he had also contacted his parents, Maggie, Sasha, Rosita, and Siddiq. Daryl checked in with Merle, Michonne, Negan, Denise, Lori, and his employees. Rosita and Abraham had Eugene and Father Gabriel covered just in case. All of them claimed to be well-stocked and able to weather the storm as it were. Rick, Shane, and Tara had to be on duty for the next 48 to 72 hours and would be bunking at the station.

By late Wednesday evening, the weather reports had downgraded the chance of threatening conditions to ten percent, completely discounting the event as a major consideration. Instead, the storm hit early, just before noon on Thursday, an angry ex-wife walking into the church house right in the middle of the wedding ceremony of her unfaithful ex-husband of 15 years and his secretary-turned-mistress-now-missus, just a ball-breaking bitch full of cold fury. Merle and Nabila were in the middle of calling the client list to reschedule when Daryl’s cell rang. 

“Daryl! Thank god!” came Lori’s voice. 

“Hey,” Daryl said. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lori answered, “but the schools didn’t close today thanks to that stupid weather report. I kept Judith home, but Carl is still at school, and Shane says the roads are getting pretty bad already. Michonne is coming over here now since Rick and Shane have to be on duty for the next two days. I hate to admit it, but I’m kinda scared of getting on the roads right now with Judith and getting stuck or—“

“I’ll get Carl,” Daryl answered without reservation. “And if I can’t get him home to you, he can stay with me and Paul at my place or Merle and Carol’s, whichever one has power or firewood.”

“Oh, god! _Thank you_ , Daryl!” Lori said, relieved. “If you guys need to stay with us, you’re both more than welcome!”

“Sure thing, Lori. See y’all soon. Bye.” Daryl hung up and called out to Merle. “Yo, man! Roads are icin’ over. Send everyone home, and call Carol; see if she needs me to pick up Sophia too. I’m going to go pick up Carl and get him home.”

“You watch your ass out there,” Merle said. The elder Dixon’s tone was dead serious. “You got chains at your place?”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “I’ll get ‘em if I need ‘em.” 

Merle picked up the phone and announced the early closing on the PA line. Daryl grabbed his keys and coat, put on his cap, and dashed out the back door, nearly falling back and busting his ass when he slipped on the ice beginning to form in the employee parking lot. He carefully stepped back inside and called for Patrick to scatter some road salt from the five gallon buckets they kept in the storeroom. 

He switched his truck over into four-wheel drive for added traction if he should need it. People driving in the south didn’t have to deal with this kind of thing on any regular basis, so experience was limited and there were things you had to keep in mind: take things nice and easy, never slam on the brakes, not stopping completely if you could avoid it, staying in the clearest parts of the road. 

His phone rang; Daryl read Carol’s name on the incoming call display. “Hey, what’s up?” he answered. “You on your way home?”

“Yeah,” replied Carol. “I just talked to Merle, and he said you were on your way to the high school to get the kids. You may have more than you bargained for.”

“All their buddies too, eh?”

“You be careful,” warned Carol.

“I will” Daryl responded. “You just make it home safe, and get us some hot chocolate ready.”

“Can do,” Carol chuckled. “Love you, pookie.”

“Love you too!” Daryl said. They said their goodbyes and disconnected just as Daryl was easing onto Sharpsburg-McCollum Road about three miles from the school. The redneck punched the call button again and told his hands-free directory to “Call Carl.” 

“Uncle Daryl!” came the teen’s voice over the truck speakers. “I have a few people here who need a lift, if you can manage.”

“Some of these fuckers may have to ride in the truck bed,” Daryl joked.

“These broke-asses will take whatever they can get,” Carl quipped.

“Y’all meet me over at the practice field,” Daryl instructed. “That way I can get in and out and maybe avoid most of the parent and bus traffic.” The big Ford truck slipped a little before the other tires compensated. Daryl moved along past where someone else’s vehicle had already slipped off the road and into someone’s mailbox.

“Yes, sir,” Carl said. “We’re on our way there right now. Thanks for coming up here in all this crap.”

“No problem, man,” Daryl said. “Bye.” They hung up, and Daryl checked the car he’d passed in his rearview mirror. He looked back ahead and shook his head, wondering how in the world it was that other people could drive German luxury cars in ice and snow—hell, Germany had serious harsh driving conditions in winter—but give a southerner a Mercedes or a BMW, and add a little snow, and they could wreck the shit outta that motherfucker in a heartbeat. 

Daryl made his way in to the back drive and slowed to a gentle stop next to the man in the black leather jacket and jeans waving at him. 

“Hey, Coach,” Daryl said.

“You must be a fucking glutton for punishment, being out in this shit!” Negan jibed. “Aaron, Olivia, and me? We all told these fuckers it was gonna catch ‘em with their pants down, and they should err on the side of fucking caution for once. Bastards never listen to good sense.”

Daryl shrugged. “Maybe you should be superintendent.”

“Shit, Daryl!” Coach scoffed. “Shut your dirty whore mouth behind that fucking shit!” The two men laughed heartily. “Maybe Aaron or Olivia? He’s got his specialists degree. She’s got a master’s and ain’t found anything she can’t outsmart.”

Daryl nodded in agreement. He knew Aaron had gone through Mercer University’s local extension, and he would certainly make a good leader for the school system. His thoughts swung back to his task and he shook hands with Coach Negan. “Well, I better head on,” Daryl said. Coach nodded. “Gotta get my family home. If you and Georgia need to crash, grab a blanket and come on over, man!”

“You know we will for fuckin’ sure!” Coach said, gently patting the side of the truck. 

Daryl eased on the pedal. A couple of tires started to spin but caught as Coach gave him a thumbs up on his way to his own vehicle. Standing with Carl next to the practice field were Sophia, Enid, Duane, Ron, Noah, and Jody. The troop piled into the car, and Daryl got everyone as buckled in as could be. 

“Okay,” Daryl said. “We are illegal as fuck right now, folks, so let’s get this goin’ to the nearest house.” 

“That’s me, Mr Dixon,” said Noah. His bruises from the night of the dance were healed. “When this is all done, we’d like to talk with you about the sponsorship, if that’s all right?”

“Not a problem, guys,” Daryl said. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Jody. Daryl wanted to ask if things were okay with his father, but he knew exactly where the teen was coming from and had no intention of stirring up the kid’s feelings. “And don’t worry. My accountant and I talked about it, and you got ten thousand dollars heading your way.” The announcement well received enthusiastically to say the least.

For the rest of the drive, they road along in relative quiet, the kids talking in low voices to one another, showing each other different videos on their phones or listening to music with earbuds that seemed to appear from thin air. Daryl followed Noah’s directions to a subdivision five miles away. Just as they turned in Daryl’s phone rang again, and he pressed the call button on the steering wheel. 

“Hey, Superman,” said the most wonderful voice in the world. “I tried the store but T-Dog said you guys closed early and that you went to pick up the kids from school.” 

“Hey, Sunshine,” Daryl replied, unable to stop the smile that broke across his face. “Oh, baby, you’re on the air with a cabin-full of King County High’s finest.”

Everyone said hi to Paul and let him know exactly who all was riding with Daryl. 

“So, you’re saying we can’t talk dirty and send dick pics? Is that it?” Paul joked. Several of the kids gasped and guffawed. 

“Well, actually,” Enid chimed in, humorously adding, “Nobody’s saying you _can’t_. We’re just saying you might not want to go there right this moment; but hey, who are we to stand in the way of y’all’s sex life?”

“At least _somebody’s_ got a sex life,” added Duane.

“Hey! I have one,” Ron declared.

“We’re not talking about the kind that results in carpal tunnel syndrome,” quipped Sophia. That got major laughs, and Ron took the ribbing well, acknowledging that like the majority of his peers, he masturbates frequently and is not ashamed to admit it.

“Carl,” Ron said. “You got really quiet.”

“I’m like Duane, man,” Carl replied. “I got nothing to add to this line of conversation other than, yes, I do too.”

“Who doesn’t?” blurted Enid. Jody and Noah just grinned at each other.

“Well, okay then. Did ya catch all that, Sunshine?” Daryl said, continuing his call with the most wonderful man in the world.

“Why yes I did, Superman,” said the actor on the phone. “My name’s Paul, and that’s all y’all. I really I should’ve censored my humor a bit more. Sorry guys. I guess I’m rated TV MA.”

“Oh, don’t worry about us; you can’t shock this bunch,” Duane said.

“I will say that I think there is nothing wrong with enjoying your own body at your age,” Paul added. “People shouldn’t be made to be ashamed or embarrassed about masturbation. It’s normal and healthy, and everybody does it, so there.”

“Well,” Daryl said, turning carefully onto the road Noah lived on. “We’re about to drop off one of our first folks. I should be home around 3:00 or so.”

“Good,” Paul said. “Please be careful.” Daryl was a good driver, and he knew it wasn’t his driving skills that Paul questioned; it was the rest of the idiots on the roadway who were the cause of his beautiful actor’s concern. “I’m ready for you to be home, snug and warm, and out of all this mess, and back in my arms.” The kids gave a collective "Aww."

Daryl grinned and boldly stated, “Hey, since it’s illegal for me to text while driving, I’ll just have to use my voice to text app. So, here goes…” He pulled the truck to a halt right at the end of Noah’s driveway. All the teens were waiting, trying to guess what Daryl was about to say to Paul. “You better be ready for an attack from the _smooch monster_ tonight! Kissy-face emoji! Kissy-face emoji! Kissy-face emoji!”

“Text to voice reply,” said Paul, playing along. “Fire emoji! Eggplant emoji! Eggplant emoji! _Explosion_ emoji! Exploding hearts gif!”

“Whoa!” Carl said, thoroughly amused. “You two are as bad as Michonne and Dad!”

The kids laughed, and Daryl and Paul exchanged “I love you’s” before disconnecting. 

Noah hugged Jody, and the two gave each other a quick kiss before Noah got out and ran up to the door under the carport, waving back on his way inside. 

Daryl and the kids waved as he eased on out of the subdivision and headed to Enid’s place next. Slowly and carefully, he dropped off each of the teens. He’d been ready to take Jody out to the Treadway place even knowing that it was almost to the Butts County line. Jody spoke up and directed him to a house about two miles away from the road on which Carol and Merle lived. 

Daryl didn’t say a word; instead he just waited. The sound of the heater and the swish of the windshield wipers were comforting. Jody’s voice was low. Daryl knew the sound of shame all too well.

“Sheriff Grimes had to call DFCS on my dad,” Jody admitted. “My mom wouldn’t leave him, so my Aunt Paula went to the judge of juvenile courts and got a court order to let me stay with her. I’m going through emancipation.”

“Your aunt sounds pretty awesome,” Daryl said. 

“She’s the best.” Jody looked up, his eyes full of tears as he leaned over toward Daryl and started to cry. Daryl released the seatbelt and embraced the teen. “Thank you, Mr Daryl. If you and Mr Rovia and Coach and Mr. Merchant hadn’t been there, Noah and I wouldn’t be alive.” 

Daryl let the kid cry it out. Once Jody had collected himself, he said, “You’re braver than I was, Jody. Tell your Aunt, we said hello. She watch the show?”

“Hell yeah!” Jody blurted. “She’s totally got the hots for Mick!”

“Good,” Daryl mused. “It hard enough havin’ Davy be my competition.”

Jody looked askance and waved his hand at Daryl. “Against all _this_? Ain’t no contest, man.” 

“Pfft,” Daryl laughed back and gave the teen a fist-bump as Jody started to exit the vehicle. Daryl’s phone rang yet again. Daryl blinked when he saw the name. “Speak of the devil. Hang on, man.” Jody stopped as Connor Reedus’ voice filled the speakers.

“Yo, Daryl!” Connor said. “Hey, man. My phone just started going ape-shit while I was at a gallery meeting for my next show, and I just now got the chance to step out to check it, and it’s this weird weather alert saying Senoia is having a major ice storm. Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, man” Daryl answered. “It’s turning into a winter wonderland here.”

“If you guys need anything—and I mean _anything_ —call me back,” Connor offered. “Mi casa es su casa! If you guys lose power or whatever, I want you to head over to my place in Palmetto. You hear me? It’s got a generator and everything. I’ll tell you where the secret key is and give you the alarm code. Oh, just remember to smile out the windows while you guys are fucking and flip off the paparazzi for me.”

Daryl laughed, knowing Connor didn’t realize he was on speaker. “Yeah, it came outta left field and snuck up on everybody. Schools were in session when it hit.”

“Holy fuck!” Connor mused. “That’s fucking insane!”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Daryl. “Say, sorry to spring it on you all of a sudden, but you called while I’m in the truck, and I have a friend of mine and Paul’s here who would really like to tell you hello. Is that cool, man?”

“Absolutely,” Connor said. “Oh, apologies for the language. I need my mouth washed out with soap or some such shit.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Jody. “Hi, Connor. I’m Jody Treadway, and my Aunt Paula and I are huge fans.”

“Thanks, Jody,” Connor answered. “It’s so nice to hear that; it makes me happy to hear that fans like you guys are out there enjoying our show, ‘cause it’s not just about the actors, producers and the crews, it’s you guys who are fans too—you’re all included in what we do. So, I mean that when I say this is ' _Our_ ' show. Please tell your Aunt Paula that I said hello, and I hope you guys weather this storm all right.”

“We will,” Jody said. “It was nice to talk to you, Connor, and thanks! Me and my boyfriend really love Davy and Merlin together.”

Connor chortled. “Aww, thanks man! That means the world to know that, Jody. It’s nice to talk to you too, and thank you and your boyfriend and Paula for being the awesome fans that you are,” said Connor. “Maybe we can meet in person someday soon.”

“That would be a dream come true!” Jody exclaimed, turning back to Daryl. “Thanks for everything, Mr Daryl!” 

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Daryl replied, giving the kid a fist-bump. 

Jody shut the truck door and headed up to his aunt’s house. The teen had his phone in hand, probably calling his boyfriend to tell him about the call.

Daryl promised Connor to take him up on his offer if they needed before ending the call. Then, he drove home and slowly cruised into the driveway. Paul’s cars were parked in the garage with the bikes, so Daryl parked his truck on the turn-back of the concrete driveway, facing out toward the road. When he opened the door, the holiday scent of the fir tree filled his nostrils along with the barest hint of the cologne he loved on Paul. The hunter found his ultra-hot man stacking firewood in the fireplace.

“Hey, Superman!” called Paul, his perfect teeth and icy blue eyes shining in the heavenly smile on his face at seeing his handsome mechanic home safe and sound. “What do you want for dinner?”

And that’s when they heard the crash, followed by the lights going out. The pair grabbed their coats and dashed out the front door and down to the road. Staying on the edge of the roadway, they jogged back up to where the street met the main highway. Apparently, a car coming over the nearby concrete bridge had slid on the ice and crashed into one of the support poles. Although the wooden pole still standing, and none of the lines had snapped free, one of the transformers at the top had exploded. Paul rushed to the driver’s side door. In the driver’s seat was a middle-aged woman with dull, auburn hair that was beginning to streak heavily with iron-gray. She was slumped over to her left side, but Paul couldn’t tell if it had been caused by the impact or something else.

“She’s unconscious,” Paul said, trying to open the door. “It’s locked.” He tried to get the woman’s attention. “Hey, wake up!” He looked to see Daryl calling 9-1-1. “Should I break it?”

Daryl nodded. Paul took a breath, let it out, centered on the strike, and released a punch that shattered the backseat window on the driver’s side. Daryl blinked, not having expected that, but moved forward, still answering questions for the dispatcher.

Paul reached in the window and unlocked the door. He climbed in quickly, shoved over a ton of blankets that smelled of wet dog and cat piss, squeezed between the front seats, turned off the ignition, and used the key fob to unlock the remaining car doors. Daryl put his phone in his pocket for a second, heaved and wrenched open the door, and knelt back down, retrieving his phone to talk to the operator. Following the dispatcher’s instructions, Daryl touched the woman’s face.

“She’s non-responsive,” he answered. “Her color is very pale, and she feels sweaty and kinda clammy.”

Daryl leaned in and removed the woman’s seatbelt, then he pressed his right ear to her chest. 

_Nothing._

Paul blew on his fingers, then touched them to the woman’s pulse point beneath her jaw. The actor shook his head at Daryl, his expression forlorn.

“We can’t feel no pulse,” Daryl spoke into the phone. “No heartbeat either.”

In four minutes, the ambulance pulled up. The EMT told them that the woman had suffered a heart attack; she had probably died outright and just ended up side-swiping the pole. When Shane arrived, he photographed the scene, took statements from Daryl and Paul, and ran the car’s license plate number. 

“Was she living in the car?” Paul asked.

“Don’t think so,” Shane answered. He and Daryl also noticed how low the care was riding. The deputy reached in and took the key fob from the ignition, then headed around the back to open the trunk of the car. It was filled with tons of dry pet food and ethylene glycol antifreeze. 

“Oh, shit,” said Paul, having heard horror stories from Dr Greene about pet mills' disposal practices.

Shane rifled through the woman’s purse for her license. “Brooke Carlson. 331 County Access 9. That’s way out off of Lowery Road Extension.” Shane jogged over to confer with two more deputies who had arrived on the scene, then yelled for Daryl and Paul. “Get your truck! Let’s go!”

Daryl and Paul ran back to retrieve the truck and follow Shane through the storm. The conditions were bad, but they had to know. Once they got to the turn off from Lowery Road Extension, Shane pulled to the side, parked, and jumped to run back up to Daryl’s truck, getting into the back.

“By law, I am hereby commandeering this vehicle for official police purposes as I do not have four-wheel drive in that cruiser unlike the sheriff’s sweet new SUV,” Shane griped.

“Yeah, whatever,” Daryl chuckled. “You gasin’ this big motherfucker up on the county’s dime when we get done.” All three men were trying to give the situation a bit of levity and hoping that their guess was wrong. 

Shane nodded and pointed at the county access road. “The house is in and to the left according to the satellite map.”

Daryl eased onto the clay road, once wet and muddy, now slush and crackling with ice. The truck started to drift and fishtail. Shane did his best but could help but be himself and give Daryl backseat driver instructions. The snow was really coming down. Paul caught the barest glimpse of a round, plastic red reflector on the post of a mailbox. Daryl was glad Paul had such keen eyesight or they might have missed it. Just beyond, he saw was he guessed was a driveway. He turned off his lights and pulled in.

“Okay,” Shane said, “Y’all stay here and let me see if there’s anyone home.” Daryl nodded as Shane opened the back door and trudged through the snowy yard to knock on the door. When no one responded, he walked around the house to look in the windows and check the back door. Shane reappeared from behind the house and waved Daryl forward to park back behind the little house and near an old rusting storage shed (or maybe it was a workshop), the kind made of flimsy corrugated metal.

As soon as they stepped out Paul froze. Coming from the shed were distinct, keening whines: _dogs_ —dogs in _distress_.

“Daryl!” Paul yelled, running to the shed and finding it padlocked.

Daryl ran around to the passenger’s side of the cargo bed, opened the toolbox, and retrieved a heavy pair of bolt cutters. “You reckon there’s somebody hurt inside there?” Daryl posited to Shane, never breaking his stride as he walked to the shed door. 

Shane nodded once. “Fuck yeah. Cut it!”

Daryl cut through the steel shackle pin. Paul turned the lower half of the lock, lifted it, and placed it aside before opening the door and flipping on the lights. Inside was a grisly scene; this place most definitely had been a dog mill. The smell of filth was something out of nightmares, a mixture of animal excrement, sour urine, and decomposition. Over thirty dogs—young ones by the look of them—lay dead and dying, their fur matted or fallen out in, open sores visible on their once vibrant forms; some of the wounds looked to be from what Paul had feared most: dog fights. Muzzle guards hung on nails along the back wall with other implements that made Daryl and Paul’s blood turn to ice water. Several puppies lay dead near the water bowls. Paul was snapped back to reality by the sound of Shane vomiting heavily outside. 

Paul stepped in carefully and assessed the scene. “The water’s poisoned!” Paul cried. Daryl followed him and began opening the cages. Of the thirty-two dogs they’d found, only three were barely alive and were clearly in pain. Daryl helped Paul bring them out and lay them down on one of their hunting blankets. Shane called in the situation and told the guys Rick and Tara were on the way. Paul pulled out his phone and called his father.

“Hey, Son!” came Hershel’s cheerful voice over the speakerphone. “You fellas all set for the night?”

“Daddy, we need your help!” Paul said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “We’re with Shane and we found a dog mill! There were thirty-two, but only three are still alive. I think they’ve been dosed with antifreeze!” Paul went on to explain what had been found in the trunk of the woman’s car. 

“Son,” Hershel directed. “Listen to me carefully. Get in that house and look for some liquor, the higher the alcohol proof, the better. When you get it, mix it with some fresh water and give it to the dogs a little at a time until they start feeling better.” 

“Okay,” Paul said, looking at Shane. “Give me a second!”

Paul grabbed the cutters and snipped two small segments of fence wire from one of the cages inside the shed. He returned to the backdoor and started to work them between the strike plate and the latch. In less than ten seconds, Paul was in. In the kitchen cabinets, he found six, very familiar Mason jars in the back of the kitchen cabinet just above and to the right of the sink, so high up and far back that Paul had to get up on a chair to retrieve one. Paul took one jar, hopped back down, and grabbed the nearest bowl before filling it with tap water and bounding out the back door to Daryl.

“Dixon’s Finest for the win!” Paul cried, coming back over to show Daryl the jar and open it up. 

Daryl’s mouth feel open. He knew his Daddy’s moonshine when he saw it. It even had a red “WD” in marker in the top. No one else would have dared to pretend to be Will Dixon or use his name to peddle their product.

Paul opened the lid, poured some into his hand and smelled it. It was potent to say the least.

“That’s it,” Daryl nodded.

Paul poured the moonshine into the bowl and swirled it with his fingers before pressing them to the first dog’s nose. She perked up and groaned, but twisted up enough to take some of the water. Eventually, Paul was able to get all three dogs to drink enough to where they were no longer in agony. Dr Greene advised them to bring the dogs over to the farm and for Paul and Daryl just to spend the night with them.

“Your mama’s got a pot of her three-alarm chili simmering away,” Dr Greene advised. “Otis and Shawn cut us a ton of firewood, and the generators are full. We sure would love to have you boys with us. I know it would make your mama feel better, and I can help you two watch over those dogs.”

Paul looked at Daryl. “You had me at chili,” Daryl said with a crooked smile. 

“We’ll make our way over, Daddy,” Paul answered.

“Lord, just be careful,” Hershel reminded. “It’s getting treacherous out there.”

“Yes, sir! We will,” Paul said. “And thank you.”

“It ain’t no problem. Anything y’all need, that’s our job,” Hershel reassured. “We love you two.” They said their goodbyes and disconnected. 

“Remind me who to look for when we have another break-in,” said Shane, impressed at Paul’s larceny skills.

“Group Home 101,” shrugged Paul.

Rick arrived and he and Tara stepped out, nearly slip on some ice. “Holy shit!” Tara exclaimed checking out the scene. She fought off the urge to throw up. “Well, now I can stay on my holiday diet.”

“And, we can tell Pike County we found the dog fight supplier,’ Rick spat, thoroughly disgusted with the entire sight. “They’ve had a rash of pop-up dog fights over the past three years. Someone’s been providing big crossbreeds.”

“They keep them separated from other dogs,” Paul said. “Make ‘em mean and reward aggression.” It was clear he’d heard tales of this kind of thing from Dr Greene. 

Rick shook his head and looked at the storm. Snow was coming down heavily, and icicles were forming along the edges of the old farmhouse’s roof. “Let’s lock it up for tonight and come back after the storm breaks,” Rick ordered. “I don’t want us stuck out here. She might not have been fightin’ ‘em, and maybe she was tending those that had survived as breeding stock, but this woman was involved in animal cruelty. We’ll come back, see if we can find something to link directly to the cases in Pike County. You guys sure you wanna take in those animals? Animal Control will come to pick up the dog remains, test them for poisoning against the chemicals in the trunk of the car.”

Daryl nodded before turning to kiss Paul’s temple. “It’s gone be alright,” he whispered.

Rick tilted in his head and said, “All right. Let’s do this people.”

Daryl helped Shane secure the make-shift kennel while Tara went with Paul to close up the house. A tiny mewling cut through the din. Tara and Paul looked at each other, then into darkened laundry entry of the old house. Tara drew her flashlight and switched it on; a pair for tiny, bright green eyes peered back from the darkness. 

“Hey, sweetie,” Paul whispered. The actor put his hand down, palm-up, and the little kitten, blacker than night and just old enough to have been weaned, came to him straight away. Paul picked it up and put it under his jacket, then walked through the house with Tara to look for a mother cat and perhaps a litter of kittens. They didn’t find any sign of other cats, not even a litter box or cat food. Before they closed the house, Paul collected the other jars of the moonshine and stowed them in Daryl’s truck. Once the animals were secure and bundled in the back seat, Daryl drove slowly and carefully out to Greene Farm.

Dr Greene, Patsy, and Shawn hurried outside to help move the dogs into the small clinic Dr Greene maintained near the barn. One of the females—a purebred German Shepherd—turned out to be in labor brought on by the stress and poisoning. With Patsy’s help, Hershel managed to save three of the five in the litter and help the mother bitch recover. She growled and bared her fangs at Shawn when he was cleaning up the puppies, but Daryl stepped over to the examination table she sat on and the dog gave a couple of soft whimpers before putting the top of her head up under his chin. Without further delay, Paul and Daryl bathed the animals and dried their fur; it had taken two baths for each of them, the lone exception being the kitten. Patsy administered their shots, and the critters were gentle when Dr Greene put drops in their ears to treat the animals for mites. Shawn printed up tags, and fixed them to collars. The kitten was male and pronounced to be in perfect health, receiving his vaccinations, a clean-up, and a collar and tag as well. Of the other two dogs, Hershel said one looked to be a male Rottweiler/pit bull terrier mix and the other a female Dane/shepherd mix. Hershel said it would take time to be sure, but of the three male puppies, all were likely shepherd mix; however, without specific testing, they might have to wait to actually see more physical traits before they could be sure. Dr Greene wanted the animals to remain in isolation and observation overnight, but when the power blinked twice, he conceded to allow Paul to bring them up to the utility room of the main house.

Once the dogs were fed, watered, and settle in, and the kitten was lapping up heavy cream from a saucer on the kitchen floor, everyone cleaned up in order to gather together at the big table in the dining room. Annette and Beth served up a superb supper of spicy five-bean chili topped with freshly grated sharp cheddar cheese and sour cream. On platter in the center of the table sat stacks of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches brushed with herbed garlic butter. Daryl found himself hungry as an ox as he hadn’t eaten lunch earlier. Dr Greene offered a prayer of blessing and Shawn passed the sandwich tray to Beth first. 

“Thanks for havin’ us,” Daryl said, taking a sandwich as he took the tray from Ms Patsy and passed it to his beautiful man. “Dr Greene, just let me know what I owe you for treatin’ these animals. I know that kinda stuff adds up, and you have a business. I can—“ Daryl glanced at Paul who just gave him a knowing smile as the handsome redneck corrected himself. “ _We’ll_ pay for it.”

“I tell you what, son,” Hershel said. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can pay me when we make sure these animals are in good shape and in the right, loving homes.” 

The sound of a tiny purr started. Beth and Annette smiled as they leaned over to find the kitten rubbing its face on the hem of Daryl’s jeans.

“I think we just got a new cat,” Daryl said, his left hand rubbing lovingly along the top of Paul’s right thigh under the table as he watched the kitten start to play with Paul’s bootstrings.

“We haven’t had a dog around here since Lollie died,” said Beth.

“I don’t reckon anybody’s gonna come around and lay claim to ‘em,” Dr Greene said. “They’re all rescue animals as far as the law is concerned. Animal Control won’t need to take them in now that we’ve given them their vaccinations.” The patriarch took a sip of his iced tea. “As far as I’m concerned, we can keep one of the adolescents, but you’ll have to ask Paul and Daryl for their permission.”

Otis came in the back door to loads of barking and death by a thousand dog tongues.

“Uh, oh!” Annette cried. The Rottie and the shepherd mix dashed happily inside, following the smell of food into the dining room.

“At-at!” Hershel yelled. “House rule!”

Paul leaned to Daryl. “Nobody feeds an animal from the table.” Daryl nodded.

The shepherd came between Daryl and Paul’s chairs, bent in, gently picked up the kitten by the nape of the neck, and trotted her out back to the other nursing dog and her litter just as pretty as you please. The kitten found a corner of one the puppy pads with which to amuse himself. Once the dogs were again rallied into the utility room, they found comfort being near the furnace. 

“I really like the other girl,” Beth said. She and Paul were washing up the dishes while Shawn cleaned the table and Daryl swept the floor. “She’s gonna be pretty big, and I think she’d like having a big farm to enjoy.”

“All of them are gonna need training,” declared Shawn. “They haven’t been around people much.”

“Paul knows how to do that,” Beth said.

“You didn’t have a dog while you were in LA?” Shawn asked.

“No,” Paul said. “I wanted one so bad, but… It doesn’t matter.”

Daryl watched as Beth and Shawn worked through something at the same time while Paul finished rinsing the big cook pot. 

“That fucking asshole!” Shawn spat.

“Shh,” Beth warned, knowing Hershel and Annette might overhear Shawn’s ire.

Paul closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and opened his eyes again as he turned to his little brother. Daryl emptied the dustpan and returned it and the broom to the cupboard.

Shawn voice went to a low hiss. “It wasn’t enough for him to try to use you and bleed you dry, but he wouldn’t let you have a _dog_?”

“He claimed he had allergies,” Paul said.

“Hold on,” Shawn said, his nostrils flaring, throat and cheeks flushing red, and his eyes getting wet. “Are you _defending_ that piece of shit? After all he did to make you think you were _less_? He treated you like garbage, and lied, and cheated, and sold you out—“ 

Paul hugged his brother, drawing him in close and cutting off the tirade. Beth wiped a tear from her cheek and held the plate she’d been drying to her chest. Daryl started to step out and let the three siblings have a quiet moment together when Paul’s hand reached out toward him. He walked over and took it.

Paul leaned back from Shawn and held his brother’s face in his hands. “I’m not defending him. Alex is shit, but looking back on it, I did learn something.”

Shawn nodded as Paul stepped back and wiped the tears from his brother’s face; the young man’s eyes were puffy and red, but he was listening to his big brother.

“I learned to appreciate my family,” Paul stated. “I learned to love myself and like myself. I learned what love was _not_. I learned to forgive so that I could move on and not live in hate and pain.” Paul turned to Daryl and looked into his handsome hunter’s eyes, his arms around his strapping mechanic’s colossal shoulders. “In the end, I came out of it all the better because I learned that I really do have talent. I have the courage to pursue what I want, and now, I know what love is and what being happy is, because—”

 ** _“I found you.”_** The words propelled the ride forward at breakneck speed. When they came to themselves, Daryl’s face was buried in Paul’s neck, and he had lifted Paul completely off the floor. The kiss that followed was deep and raw and spectacular. The moans from each of them professed irrefutable signs of satisfaction and anticipation of more to come.

Shawn and Beth were wide-eyed and slack-jawed. When the pair finally broke, Paul and Daryl just looked back at the Greene siblings. 

“Daryl,” Beth said. “You saved us again.” 

Daryl and Paul pulled the two in to a big family hug. 

“We’ll see if there’s still all this family love once those two big bowls of your Mama’s five-bean chili kicks in!” Daryl joked. The four of them broke into raucous laughter, waking sleeping dogs who had to be loved and coddled and settled in again.

“Who wants to play the new game your Mama bought?” called Dr Greene from the living room. 

“Ooh! We do!” Beth cried.

“Beth, would you please bring in that plate of brownies for everyone, sugar?” Ms Annette asked.

“Yes ma’am!” Beth replied, grabbing the foil covered platter after the group broke apart and headed into the living room.

When they’d all settled around the room with a brownie (or two) and Paul on the floor with Daryl, leaning back between Daryl’s open legs as his happy redneck rubbed his beautiful actor’s back, Ms Annette pulled out a black and white card box. Paul felt Daryl tense and gave him a quick grin and squeeze on the thigh.

The guy at the game shop in McDonough said this is the hottest card game out there right now,” Annette explained. “It’s called Cards Against Humanity. Have y’all played it before? It’s supposed to be really funny.” 

Daryl and Paul had in fact done so at Jared’s and again with Merle, Carol, Michonne, and Rick. The pair smiled and nodded. “You are so about to blush, Mama!” said Paul. Once the initial shock of the responses had worn off, Hershel Greene won the first round, Daryl took the second, and Patsy the third. 

About 1:00 AM, Dr Greene made his way in to check on the animals. After he left, Paul sneaked down the stairs, opened the back door and brought the animals inside, stopping by Beth’s room to drop off the shepherd mix female. 

“I’m calling her ‘Kismet,’” she said, settling the happy dog on a throw blanket next to her bed. “Kissy for short. Kismet means fate or destiny. Thanks to my big brother, she has a good one.” Paul kissed his baby sister’s forehead and took the Rottie, the shepherd, the puppies, and the kitten into their room. 

“Getting to be like Noah’s Ark up in here, Sunshine,” Daryl said as Paul slipped under the covers once the animals were settled. The shepherd, her puppies, and the kitten lay snuggled in a blanket in the corner. The Rottie found his way up sleep by Paul’ knees. 

“Glenn said they want a puppy,” said Paul, putting his phone in the spare charger. 

“Merle said he and Carol will take the Rottie,” Daryl murmured, snuggling up behind Paul, and realizing that they were both still wearing sleep pants. Most of the time they slept naked. “Rick wants the mama shepherd.”

“Can we keep the other two?” Paul asked.

“Do you want to keep the other two?” Daryl responded.

“Yeah,” Paul said. “If it’s okay with you.”

Daryl took Paul’s face in his hands and kissed his gorgeous actor softly. “Then, we have two dogs and a cat,” said Daryl. Paul snuggled down under the covers, his back held close against Daryl’s warm chest by those powerful arms.

The distinct sound of flatulence cut through the silence.

“Daryl Dixon!” Paul said in mock outrage. “That better have been one of the dogs.”

Daryl didn’t answer, but the silent, shaking laughter was all the confirmation Paul needed. When Daryl could finally answer he asked in a pitiful voice, “So, does this mean all I get tonight is the sad hand-job from Card Against Humanity?”

Paul rolled over toward him. “I love you, warts, farts, and scars and all—the whole package.”

There was another sound. 

“Hey, now! That wasn’t me,” Daryl laughed.

“Tell me you love me,” Paul intoned mischievously, grinning back and shaking with laughter of his own.


	16. Overbanked Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes weather the snowpocalypse at Greene Farm (during which Shawn gets a couple of BIG surprises), Paul gets major news concerning work, Daryl deals with some insecurities (and a prowler), the boys have their own fashion show and visit a new gym, and Paul gets a high-powered, early birthday gift from Daryl and Merle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some wonderful works being produced this week in the wake of what many of us consider a very deep and very personal loss. I refuse to let that hamper my enjoyment of this fandom and the wonderful works of fanfic that are being shared therein. To those of you who are hurting, I hope this story helps you feel better in some small way. As always, comments are welcome FUEL!!!! Much love, and happy reading!!!
> 
> ****This chapter has two distinct dedications. First, it is dedicated to the man who is, and always will be, our own 'Personal Jesus,' **Tom Payne** , actor extraordinaire and faithful friend and ally of the LGBTQ+ community. Best wishes to Tom and his glorious angel, Jennifer, on their recent engagement. Second, I dedicate it to **_you_** , the Paul "Jesus" Rovia fan base. May you all know comfort, joy, and love that is the continuing staple of this character, regardless of screen or script.****
> 
> “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen!" -- Luke 24:5-6

Paul woke up to a happy Rottie mix up on the bed, hopping around and barking. 

“Shh,” the actor chided, laughing in spite of himself. “You’re gonna get me in trouble with Daddy, buddy!”

“Too late,” Daryl rasped, snapping his fingers and gently brushing the dog down off the bed before turning back to Paul. “About 6:30 this morning, your Daddy peeked in here and just shook his head. He wasn’t mad or nothin'; he was ljust aughing about the fact that we had nearly the entire animal kingdom up here in the bed with us. The shepherd had moved all her pups and the kitten up here to sleep next to this one over here.” Daryl hooked a thumb over his shoulder to the young Rottie now up on his hind legs with his front paws on the edge of the bed by Daryl’s feet, the goofy dog’s huge, pink tongue lolling out happily. On seeing Daryl’s attention, he hopped back up to try to get in the warm spot between the two handsome lovers. 

“Get back down, buddy.” Daryl patted the young dog and shooed him back down to the floor before sliding a hand around Paul’s waist and pulling his gorgeous actor even closer, kissing Paul’s left shoulder and receiving a delighted shudder in return. Daryl’s deep voice was music to Paul’s ears, still thick with sleep and heavy with desire. “Want to grab a shower together? I’ll scrub your back.” Daryl’s lips met the flawless skin over Paul’s spine, and the hunter’s powerful hand slid down Paul’s smooth stomach and below his navel, following the silky, dark trail and slipping beneath Paul’s waistband to stroke his fingers in the closely trimmed hair at the base of his beautiful actor’s magnificent cock. “Make you feel good.” Daryl nuzzled his face into the back of Paul’s neck, drawing forth another charged shiver. Paul could feel Daryl’s thick, heavy sex against his ass, lengthening like his own underneath the cotton sleeping pants.

“We have to take the dogs out to walk,” Paul moaned.

“Your Daddy did that already,” Daryl assured, his strong hand wrapping around Paul’s exceptional size. “Come shower with me.”

“We’ll get there, Superman,” Paul whispered. “First things first…” Paul rose up, straddled Daryl’s knees, and pulled down the dark grey sleep pants, freeing his perfect partner’s massive cock before leaning in and taking it into his mouth all the way to the base. An unstoppable shockwave surged through Daryl’s body, forcing him to release a heavy breath, his head thrown back and fingers carding through Paul’s luxurious tresses. The warm, wet ecstasy from Paul’s fantastic mouth, tongue, and erotic attentions made Daryl’s heart race. 

“Not yet, baby!” Daryl cried, pulling Paul up off of his pulsing cock and turning him. Without another word, Daryl yanked Paul’s navy colored sleep pants down to his knees, releasing his actor’s stiff member; it was a thing of beauty, proudly arcing up to Paul’s navel and wider in the middle, the sheath of foreskin drawn back to reveal the perfect head that had already begun to leak pre-come. Daryl engulfed it, starving for the feel of Paul in his mouth and down into his throat, going as far down as he physically could. The strapping redneck had gotten so much better at this. Paul bit his bottom lip and gave a groan of pleasure. A second later, Daryl felt himself being taken back into Paul’s incomparable mouth once more, wherein he knew no mercy. 

The Rottie barked a couple of times before Paul pushed him away. Daryl was too wrapped up in his impending climax to care what the dogs did at the moment. He re-doubled his efforts on Paul, loving how his future husband’s member glided in and out, hard as steel and perfect in every respect. He felt Paul’s stomach tense. Paul could also feel Daryl’s abs contracting harder, more frequently; his beautiful mechanic’s thighs started to quiver. Both of the lovers’ hips began jerking forward, thrusting for more involuntarily, and getting it entirely. 

Paul felt Daryl’s cock swell, and he swirled his tongue around the thick head and frenulum before diving to the bottom and bobbing hard and fast. Daryl rewarded his efforts with stifled cries and multiple shots of release; Paul swallowed over and over, taking every drop of purest love he could from the king of his universe. His own reaction spilled forth in nearly a dozen strong shots, and Daryl nearly choked, making both dogs bark, but the hunter recovered with a concerted effort. The pair eased each other through their collective wave of euphoria, wholly pleased with their exertions. Paul shifted back up to lie on top of his magnificent partner, his lustrous hair splayed beautifully over Daryl’s left pectoral and shoulder. Paul leaned over and kissed Daryl’s collarbone right where the new tattoo proclaimed “Superman.” He looked up as Daryl looked down to catch his eyes.

 ** _“You’re my life.”_** The ride spiraled as the words tumbled out of their mouths in heated, panting issue. It wasn’t until the second knock at the door and the barking of the dogs that the pair stopped kissing and remembered that they were half-naked in bed.

“Hey, fellas?” came Hershel’s voice from the hallway. “Your Mama’s getting up and about, and she’s gonna start making breakfast soon, and I was hoping maybe you two might be up to checking on the livestock and horses with me and Otis this morning.”

Paul leaned up on his right elbow and pulled up the cover over himself and Daryl. He looked back at Daryl who readily nodded.

“Yes, sir!” Paul answered. “We’re gonna shower, and we’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” said Dr Greene. “Thank you, fellas.” They heard his footsteps head down the hallway. The Rottie sniffed that the bottom of the bedroom door. 

“Time to make the doughnuts,” said Daryl, sitting up and kissing Paul. Once up, they shucked off the sleep pants, tossed them into the hamper, and made sure the animals were doing well. All of them seemed happy.

Paul turned the water on and let it build up steam before pulling Daryl into the warm spray. Paul rubbed the soapy washcloth across the vast, muscular expanse of his handsome lover’s chest as Daryl leaned down and kissed him, tongues sporting, pulling loving sounds most eagerly from one another. Daryl’s hand found their mutual erections, hard and throbbing once more, and he began rubbing the large phalluses together as the bubbles of the evergreen-scented body wash ran down between the two of them.

Daryl took the cloth away from his cute little ninja and slung it over his left shoulder. Paul looked at him with a curious expression until Daryl lifted the beautiful actor’s right hand. Two of Paul’s knuckles were bruised from where he’d shattered the car window to try and help the woman in the storm. Daryl softly kissed the reddish-purple joints, his lips a soothing balm to take away the soreness.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Paul assured. “How’s your back? That door was bent on the frame and you pulled it open like you were the Six-Million Dollar Man.”

Daryl shrugged. “Not feeling it, so I reckon I didn’t strain anything, and I slept real good last night next to you.” The big man turned Paul around and rubbed the cloth down his little ninja’s back, kissing along his shoulder and slipping his finger in the cleft of Paul’s buttocks before kneeling down behind him to feast on the tiny pucker of muscle. Paul let out a long, deep moan of desire as he reached a hand behind him to stroke at his handsome mechanic’s head.

Daryl’s fingers found Paul’s mouth to get some more spit to add to his own before bringing his hand back down, fingers and tongue circling and teasing Paul’s entrance. “We got any lube in here?”

Paul nodded back, breathing heavily. “Yeah. I bought some to keep in here and in the bedroom. Hang on.” He stepped out to get the bottle from under the sink. Daryl followed him out, smiling and trying to keep his beautiful man warm as he rutted up against Paul’s perfect ass with his girder-stiff cock. Paul craned his neck back to offer Daryl his tongue, his own hard member thrumming in time to his heartbeat. 

“You think of everything,” Daryl whispered hotly.

The connecting door opened wide from Shawn’s bedroom into the shared bathroom. “Did I leave my earbuds in—Oh, shit! _Wh-WHOA!_ ” Shawn stammered, the look of incredulity on his face denoting the formation of a long-lasting memory for the ages: that which can never be unseen.

“Everything except for locking the door,” Paul chortled. Daryl could only huff a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all as he kissed Paul’s shoulder and turned to get back in the shower, his throbbing length standing proud and undaunted.

“Dear god! Dude, that’s…a whole _lot_ of huge dicks first thing in the morning!” Shawn declared, something between amazement and terror at war on his face. “I’m gonna go—oh, wow! Holy _Jesus_!”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Paul nodded, sighing and taking the lube with him to get back into the shower. “We’re gonna take care of each other and finish up here, and then we’ll be down. Your earbuds were on the kitchen table last night.” 

Shawn shook his head and turned to leave and give his brother and Daryl privacy, stopping only long enough to offer, “Hey! If you guys need condoms, I have some—shit! Never mind, I’ve only got regular size.”

“We’re all good here without ‘em,” Paul assured as he stepped back into the shower, then poked his head back out of the shower curtain. “Besides, if either of us isn’t pregnant by now… But thanks, man.” Shawn grinned and huffed a laugh as he nodded back to his big brother and hurriedly closed the bathroom door. Paul turned back to a grinning, rock-hard, achingly beautiful Daryl. “Now, back to us…” 

“I know just where we left off.”

Daryl spun a laughing Paul toward the wall and knelt back down behind his cute little ninja to finish what he’d started on his lover’s tight hole. Soon enough, Daryl had Paul’s back pressed hard against the shower tiles, his knees hooked over the redneck’s god-like arms, and Daryl pounded himself up into Paul, making his man ejaculate heavily between the two of them. Daryl happily lapped at the hot come on his heavenly actor’s chest just before releasing deep into Paul’s divine warmth. The kiss they shared afterward all but ripped four magical words straight from Daryl Dixon’s soul; it took a Herculean effort to keep from saying them, sticking to his game plan for proposing to Paul. Daryl could tell that Paul was completely in sync with him, their spirits as wholly combined as their bodies.

“I want to say something—ask you something,” Paul said, smiling and panting, his tears mixing with the droplets on his face, “but I’m not sure it’s the right moment.”

“Shh,” Daryl comforted, kissing his perfect man and slowly sliding his grand member in and out of Paul’s tight channel. “I know, Sunshine. Me too. Real soon, baby. Real soon, I promise.” Paul nodded and let his head rest in the crook of his glorious hunter’s neck and shoulder, trusting in Daryl to bring them both down from the intense orgasms they’d just shared and marveling once more at his beautiful hunter’s awesome strength and stamina.

When the water started to cool, they washed again, rinsed quickly, and turned off the tap. They got out, dried themselves and their hair, and dressed in some clothing Paul had purchased to keep over at his parents’ place for just such situations. Daryl looked fucking fantastic in the long-sleeve denim shirt and tight jeans. Paul had the shirt tailored to fit the man’s gigantic shoulders. There was even a deep tan buckskin vest that made Daryl’s eyes light up when he saw that it was his. Paul dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a dark blue denim. Paul paused before putting on his sturdy leather belt to check on the mama shepherd and wrangle the puppies. Daryl pulled on his boots and placed Paul’s pair down next to him as his beautiful actor broke away from getting nuzzled by the shepherd. Daryl brought the kitten and Rottie downstairs just as Beth emerged from her room with Kissy. Paul followed along with the mama, keeping her pups in the sturdy cardboard box Hershel had provided with low sides and filled with fluffy towels.

Once everyone was finally downstairs, the dogs once again settled inside the laundry room with warm blankets, waiting food, and fresh water bowls, Daryl and Paul sat down with the Greene’s and Otis and Patsy for a breakfast of eggs, pancakes, sausage, and bacon. Dr Greene blessed the bountiful breakfast and passed the platter of eggs around to Otis.

“How much snow do y’all think we got?”

“I heard the weatherman say it was eight inches in some areas,” Ms Annette announced. 

“Well, I measured six times around the place this morning,” Otis declared. “And here at Greene Farm, we are sporting over ten inches!”

“Oh, there’s _definitely_ more than ten inches around here,” said Paul. 

Shawn sputtered and coughed on his orange juice.

“You okay, man?” Daryl asked; he and Paul were totally enjoying the inside joke. 

Shawn collected himself. “Just went down the wrong way.”

“I hate when that happens,” said Daryl slyly.

The pair could tell that Dr Greene was picking up on some underlying point, so they let it drop, figuring poor Shawn had been through enough this morning.

“Thanks, Mama,” Paul said when Ms Annette put the jar of peanut butter in front of him. He handed it off to Daryl first. 

“Wait a minute,” said Patsy. “Daryl, you eat peanut butter on your pancakes too? I hadn’t seen anybody do that but Paul and then these kids.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl nodded, dipping some of the peanut butter out with his knife and spreading it on his stack. “My Mama liked ‘em this way, and so does Merle.” 

“See?” Paul asked, leaning over to give Daryl a quick kiss. “He’s _perfect_!” Daryl gave him a quick kiss back. Paul turned his attention back to his plate as he added some of the spread to his own stack of pancakes. “Maggie was always grossed out by it.”

“Not anymore,” Beth countered. “She suddenly got a hankering for pancakes with peanut butter and strawberry preserves while she was pregnant.” 

“Thank y’all again for havin’ us and our furry refugees,” Paul said.

“You’re both always welcome, pumpkin,” Ms Annette affirmed. 

Once the cute couple had eaten their fill, they ran back upstairs to brush their teeth. Next, they cleaned out fireplaces, and started a new fire in the living room. Then, Daryl and Paul grabbed their coats and ventured outside with Dr Green, Otis, Shawn, and Beth. The brilliant white covering of snowfall dressed the house, yards, and fields in a picturesque display worthy of a postcard. Paul took several pictures of everyone and posted them. Beth and Shawn were getting the dogs to play in the snow. They seemed to enjoy it very much. Daryl’s phone rang; it was Merle.

“Hey, man!” 

“Hey, baby brother,” Merle greeted. “Just wanted to check on you guys and make sure you two didn’t freeze your peckers off last night.”

“Naw, man. We’re good,” Daryl explained. “It’s like I told you last night, my power went out from that dead woman side-swiping the light pole. I don’t know if it’s been restored yet, but we’re still out here at Greene Farm. How much snow did y’all get?”

“A little more’n eight inches from what I could tell,” said Merle.

“Hey, Shawn?” Daryl jibed. “Don’t we have more than ten inches?” Paul startled laughing. Shawn was thankful for the cold wind hiding his blush as he gave Daryl and Paul a playful middle finger. Beth turned her head, her grin indicating that she knew something was up. 

Daryl finished reassuring Merle of his and Paul’s safety and comfort and told him they would bring the Rottie by later on. Then, he called to check on more of their family. Lori, Michonne, and the kids were fine. Denise crashed over at Eugene’s along with Father G. Rosita and Abraham ended up hosting Philip, Andrea, Amy, and Spencer. Rick, Shane, and Tara were none the worse for wear, having had to rescue several motorists, many of whom—to Daryl’s never-ending amusement—had been driving German luxury vehicles. Jared and Alden picked up Laura and Arat and stayed over at Aaron and Eric’s where they all enjoyed Eric’s French toast that morning. Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel, Jr were warm and toasty with no troubles other than Glenn trying to make Hershel his first snowman. Sasha and Tyreese were actually open for business. Morales called to say that he, Nabila, T-Dogg, and Axel made it in and were tending the shop to ensure that the place didn’t get too far behind. Coach and Georgia hosted Olivia; they made a snowman and toasted marshmallows.

The chickens were fine and snug in their coop. The cattle were huddled under the weather stalls, munching on hay and silage. In the stables, the horses started nickering, peeking out of their stalls to greet their visitors. Beth opened the first stall and led Sassafras out before mucking out the stall and replacing it with fresh hay. Shawn, Paul, Daryl, and Otis, did the same for the other horses while Dr Greene filled troughs with fresh hay and concentrates of various grains. He also pulled a few large carrots out of his coat pockets, broke them in half and gave them to the horses while they had to wait. The dogs weren’t sure what to think about the big animals at first, but they followed the humans’ lead and settled in without incident, letting Dr Green introduce them all around. When he got to Nervous Nelly, Hershel gave the mare a reassuring rub on her nose and neck before letting the bouncy Rottie mix near her. 

Once the horses had tack and saddle, the riders mounted and rode out along the farm trails Otis had cleared with the tractor early that morning. Daryl wasn’t crazy about horses, but he was a decent rider. Paul sat the saddle like he’d been born on it. Daryl watched him handle Nelly and all her quirks so carefully, especially when the dogs went dashing by to plow out into the snowdrifts. He stopped and watched Daryl when flakes started falling again, catching perfectly in Daryl’s hair and on his shoulders. Paul took another picture and posted it to his social media. Connor and Dianna immediately gave likes. 

After riding out to the pond, along the hunting trail, and past the deer stand, the riders returned. They brushed down their mounts and covered them with blankets before strolling back up to the farmhouse. Otis and Hershel had remained behind and were working on clearing off the brick walkway that led up to the front steps and sprinkling out more rock salt. Paul and Daryl took over for the men, trying to carefully maneuver them back inside without making it obvious that they were doing so.

By 2:00 PM, the storm front had moved out and the sun peaked through. Beth took a fantastic picture of Paul holding Daryl on the front porch, his bearded chin resting on Daryl’s right shoulder. In the background of the photo, the sun shone through the ice-covered limbs of the big oak tree in the yard, creating a glittering nimbus around the pair as if the tree had been coated in thousands upon thousands of diamonds, suddenly lit to brilliance by the rays of the afternoon sun.

Daryl and Paul stayed for dinner that evening but headed out immediately after. They dropped the Rottie—so dubbed “Chance” by Sophia—over at Merle’s, and they made a stop at the pet store for supplies. 

Daryl’s place had power again, and Paul had him stop the truck to take a picture of the holiday lights against the snowy backdrop. The mama shepherd found the comfy dog bed and blanket to her liking. The kitten discovered the auto-cleaning litter box and tested it first thing! Later on, Daryl nearly fell in the floor laughing and had to take a picture of their new pride and joy when one of the vacuum robots came around the corner of the kitchen counter with the black kitten riding along on top as pretty as you please.

While Paul carried their dirty clothing to the utility room to do laundry, Daryl opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, carrying them in to sit on the hearth in front of the fire he’d built. He’d spread a nice palette of blankets out for them and propped up a few of the fur-covered throw pillows Paul had bought for them. Paul’s phone rang with the Death Ascendant theme song. Daryl saw the name on the display: Scott Gimble.

_Oh shit._

He scooped up the phone and ran it out to the laundry room. “Paul? It’s Scott,” Daryl said, handing the phone over, his worry evident. Calls from the executive producer and showrunner typically meant one thing: your character is going to die. Paul’s look said it all. 

_Fuck._

Paul swiped the call button. “Hi, Scott,” he greeted. “So, how soon do I get to act out my death scene?” He listened. “What? Wait—who else is there with you?” Paul listened some more as he looked back to see Daryl anxiously nibbling at a thumbnail. “Say, do you guys mind if I put this on speaker? My partner is here with me, and he’s also really worried about this conversation. Is that cool? Thanks!” Paul touched the screen and the speaker function activated. 

“So, Paul,” Scott started. “I’m here with Bob Kirkland and Craig Nicoletti.” Daryl knew Craig, and he’d met both Scott and the comic’s creator, Bob Kirkland, at the premiere in New York City.

“Hi, Paul and Daryl!” came Craig’s voice.

“Hey guys,” said Paul.

“Hey, dudes,” said Daryl, sidling up to put a comforting hand on the small of Paul’s back.

“First of all,” Scott started. “Are you guys all right? We heard about the storm. That was really something else!”

“We’re all good, thanks,” answered Paul.

“Well, we’re all glad to hear that,” said Bob.

“So, Paul, the purpose for our call is that we’re calling to congratulate you,” Scott stated. Paul looked at Daryl; a smile broke across Daryl’s face as his eyebrows rose in curious anticipation.

“ _Congratulate_ me?” Paul asked, clearly confused. “Uh…”

“You don’t know? Wow!” said Scott. “Well, get ready. The media is gonna be all over this. Paul, you’ve just been nominated for your performance in ‘Heart’s Beat On!’”

“Wh-What? What are you talking about?” Paul faltered. “Nominated? For what?”

“For an Emmy, a Critic’s Choice Award, and if our contacts here in ‘Tinsel Town’ are accurate, they’re talking about a Golden Globe,” said Craig. “From all of us here at AMC and on Death Ascendant, we want to extend to you our heartfelt congratulations. We can’t wait to see you win!”

“Paul?” Scott jumped in. “I can tell you who does know already. Your lawyer and your agent are all over the studio’s ass concerning a particular clause in your contract. So, if you could just ask them to simmer down a little, that would be nice, and yes, your compensation is already under adjustment to $650,000 per episode. If you win any of the awards, you jump to $1M per episode, retroactive.”

“On a personal note, Paul,” Bob started, “I want to thank you for bringing this character to life so vibrantly and in the spirit in which he truly is meant to be portrayed. There are kids out there right now who look at this guy—a powerful character, who just happens to be openly gay, no less—and they’re saying, ‘Man, I want to be like him! He’s such a badass!’ You’re one of the main reasons that’s happening. So, don’t worry. Merlin is still very much alive, and as long as I have anything to say about it, he’s going to be so for quite a while.”

Daryl picked Paul up and sat him down on top of the back counter to kiss him, to express his love and adoration, and to tell him how incredibly talented he was directly into his left ear in a low voice that turned Paul’s skin to gooseflesh.

“You guys still there?” came Bob’s voice over the speakerphone.

“Oh, sorry,” Paul said breathlessly toward his phone.

“My bad, y’all,” Daryl said. “I was just…congratulating my man here for bein’ so _goddamn fuckin’ incredible_ , and I reckon I got a little carried away.”

“Hey! You guys go get carried away some more!” Craig yelled. “We love you both! Congratulations again, and have a fantastic evening!” The call participants made their goodbyes and disconnected, leaving Daryl to pick up his man once more and kiss the ever-living fuck out of him, carrying Paul all the way back into the living room to lay down together in front of the fire. 

After kissing a while, Paul lay back against Daryl’s chest as they finished off the bottle of wine, enjoying the warm, crackling fire. Daryl expressed how proud he was to Paul, and it was finally starting to sink in just how big a deal this was.

“So are you gonna call off Madison and Victor?” Daryl asked.

“And get cussed out twice?” Paul snorted. “No thank you! Those two have already told me in the past in no uncertain terms to stay out of their business. I pay them to be the sharks they are: _my_ sharks!” Daryl liked the sound of that.

Glancing over into the hall beyond the kitchen, they could see that the kitten lay in the puppy pile, curled into a sleek ball of jet black fur and tucked up under the mama shepherd’s chin. Once mama had checked over her sleeping litter, she rose up and trotted into the living room, sneaking up on Paul’s other side and rubbing her head up under his hand until he got the message and proceeded to pet and scratch her behind the ears, between her shoulders, and back at the good spots between her hips and just above her tail. The young shepherd happily shook her right leg involuntarily and pressed the top of her head up under Paul’s chin. The poor thing was starved for attention, barely old enough to have carried a litter at all. 

“Rick and Michonne and the kids are gonna love you so much, happy girl,” Daryl said, getting licked in the face as if the dog could understand his very words. After a while, they all heard a tiny noise from the foyer, and the shepherd made her way back to lie down with her litter and allow them to suckle.

Paul and Daryl set out food and water before heading up to bed. Before 11:00, Paul got two calls, one from a reporter at Entertainment Weekly wanting to talk with Paul about his nominations. The actor asked to reschedule the call for the next afternoon. The other was a video call from Connor and Dianna, checking on him and Daryl and sending their love and congratulations. As it turned out, Dianna had been the lead in a German movie that was nominated for a Critics Choice award; Paul had seen it and said it was tremendous, and after the premiere of the episode Paul, Daryl, Merle, and Rick had been part of, Connor’s new show, _Ride Along_ , received a Critic’s Choice nomination as well for Best Unstructured Reality Series.

As they lay quietly, Daryl mused, “You know, I ain’t never had an Emmy-nominated actor’s cock up my ass before. Ya know, just throwin’ me down on the bed and takin’ me like a boss.” By 1:34 AM, Daryl Dixon had seen god four times, and both men slept deeply with smiles fixed to their faces.

Kissing Paul goodbye a few hours later, Daryl left for work, swung by the bakery for some muffins and fritters, then met Merle and his crew at the shop to open up now that the snows were melting. Merle and T-Dog gave him a fuck-ton of shit for the brazen trail of love bite along the left side of his neck. Patrick even flashed him a peek under his own collar to show Daryl a hickey of solidarity; apparently things with Benjamin were going very well. That made Daryl’s morning. As for the ribbing from the guys, he was still glowing from his little ninja’s attentions back in the early morning hours and just smiled back. At lunch with Rick, Shane, and Merle, Daryl was still happy as could be.

“Makes my ass itch just to look at ‘im,” Merle swore, shaking his head in mock disgust at his baby brother. “Lookin’ like the town mutt who’s just been caught fucking the prize poodle!”

“Yeah, man,” Shane laughed. “What kinda happy pills are you on today?”

“We was up late celebratin’,” Daryl confessed. “Paul’s been nominated for an Emmy award.” Daryl felt like his chest was about to rip through his coveralls; he was so proud of his gorgeous actor. 

“An Emmy. That’s like one of them Oscars, ain’t it?” Merle asked.

Rick nodded taking a closer interest. “Yeah, but it’s for TV.”

“And, he’s a Critic’s Choice nominee,” Daryl said. He told them about the episode of _Ride Along_ they’d been in getting accolades as well. That got cheers all around. “The folks who run the show think he’s gonna get nominated for a Golden Globe too.”

“Does that mean more money?” Shane asked. “I mean, just being nominated is supposed to be a big deal, right?”

Daryl shrugged, not wanting to discuss Paul’s money; as far as he was concerned, that was Paul’s business and no one else’s. He tried to be a bit more ambiguous but still answer truthfully. “Means he can get better roles and offers in the future,” Daryl said. “If the show wants to keep him, I guess they’d have to make it worth his time.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Rick scoffed. “That _ain’t_ the reason he’s stayin' around here to work, and you damn well know it. He’d take a volunteer job crawling buck-naked on hands and knees across the entire state of Georgia just to know you’re at the finish line, brother.”

“My professional opinion?” Shane interjected. “That pretty boy has an acute case of Daryl Dixon _Dick_ Addiction.” 

“You better watch your mouth, man,” Daryl warned, his face instantly becoming the hardened glare of death for which he was so well known. Merle was looking at Shane as if to ask “What kind of moron are you?”

Shane threw up his hands in surrender. “Whoa! Sorry, dude. Calm down!”

“It was just a bad joke,” Rick reassured, giving Shane a sour look before turning back to Daryl. “He didn’t mean it like that. We’re happy for Paul, for both of you.”

“I was just tryin’ to make you laugh, man,” Shane said, downing himself and rubbing the back of his short-cropped hair.

Daryl lightened up and nodded back, letting his temper die down; he even hugged it out privately with Shane in the parking lot of _The Mean Bean_ before heading back to the shop. Carol would’ve been proud; so would Paul, and that meant even more. 

The well-built redneck had been thinking about what Shawn had said, about the way Paul had been treated by his former lover. Daryl had no intention of letting anyone say anything untoward about someone as kind and caring as his perfect partner, and although that might sound impossible to control completely, at least he could shut Shane’s gutter-trap—or anyone else’s—from insinuating that their relationship was based solely on sex or suggesting that Paul was some kind of cock-starved animal in heat. Daryl was still ruminating on this when he left for home that night.

Paul had set the table with cute, red plates with golden Chinese scrollwork around the edges. Daryl watched for a second as Paul was going to town in the kitchen, cooking up stir-fried chicken and vegetables in a spicy Szechuan sauce, fried rice with peas, carrots, and egg, and the homemade pan-fried pork and cabbage dumplings he’d learned to make from Glenn’s mom. Not only was Daryl’s man ungodly beautiful, with a heart bigger than Texas, but he was a fantastic cook. The shepherd came dashing over to greet Daryl. The mechanic petted her and kissed the top of her head, then checked on the puppies who were safe and sound in their bed. The kitten sat up on the low sill of the bay window, looking out over their backyard and trying to investigate the cat in the darkened glass.

“I just turned on your shower to heat up, Superman,” called Paul, stirring the contents of the steaming wok around and around with the metal spatula. “Run go hop in, and this will be ready as soon as you get out.”

Daryl took off his work boots and put them aside before slipping up beside Paul to give him a kiss. “That smells fucking awesome.” Paul turned back with a pleased smile and kissed Daryl again. “The food smells good too.” He kissed Paul’s neck, drawing forth a smile and a happy moan. “Thank you for goin’ to all the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, baby. I like feeding my man and making you happy,” stated Paul, giving Daryl another peck on the lips. “Now go jump in that shower. This will be done in just a couple of minutes.”

Daryl kissed Paul’s right temple and nuzzled his ear hotly, drawing a tickled reaction from his adorable partner. “Be right back.” He dashed away to the bathroom off the back hall, shed his work clothes, and hopped into the shower. When he stepped out, there was a nice, new, black thermal shirt and a new pair of stretchy, dark gray lounging pants. The label was Ralph Lauren on each, and they’d been freshly laundered. Daryl put them on; they felt fucking fantastic! He walked back into the kitchen to find Paul placing their plates on the table along with a beer for each of them.

“I hope you’re hungry!” Paul said. He noticed Daryl’s new attire. “Do you like them?”

“Oh, yeah!” Daryl assured. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“You’re welcome,” Paul said, nodding his delighted approval. “Some deliveries came in today, and I got us some new things for here and for the trip to Costa Rica.” The glorious actor reached over to take his brawny mechanic’s hand. “Now, I know you hate having to try on things, but I need to see you in some of them so I’ll know whether or not to order more.”

Daryl noted the hint of anticipation and excitement in his perfect partner’s voice. “Okay,” he nodded. “What all did you get us?”

“Some swimsuit options, more loungewear for around here,” Paul listed. “And some very nice underwear that I want to see you in.” Daryl caught the glint in Paul’s eyes. “You might even like seeing me in some of the different styles I got for us.”

“And even less,” Daryl added, getting those bedroom eyes from his gorgeous boyfriend.

“Sometimes the thrill starts with the right presentation,” Paul said.

Picking up one of the dumplings with his chopsticks, Paul dipped it in a touch of soy sauce and held it in front of Daryl’s lips. Daryl held half of the dumpling out between his teeth, then leaned back over to his smiling partner. Paul took the offering into his mouth, closed it, and bit down; they chewed, lips together, kissing lightly and enjoying the taste of ginger and sesame oil on each other’s lips and tongue. Daryl pulled back slightly.

“God _damn_ that’s good,” Daryl said softly, kissing Paul once more before settling back in his chair, taking a swallow of his beer, and starting in on the superb meal.

They talked about the business’s new search for a store manager, agreeing that promoting from within would be best. Paul told Daryl he’d spoken with Madison and the reporter from EW about the nominations. Paul had also been invited on a four-day cruise—literally another big fan convention on the open seas; before he booked the trip in early February, Paul wanted to make sure it was something Daryl might wat to do, and if so, they would transfer immediately after to a three-day cruise, just the two of them. The following weekend, they would fly with Carol, Merle, and Sophia to Paris. It was meant to be Daryl’ and Paul’s gift to the couple as Merle was ready to propose and had asked Paul’s opinion for the right back-drop. Rick would keep the dogs.

“It’s _that_!” Daryl declared, dipping his head toward his beautiful actor. “That kinda thing right there.”

“What?” Paul asked, confused.

Daryl put down his chopsticks; truth be told, he’d actually gotten pretty good at eating with them. “That’s one of the reasons I love you so fuckin’ much,” Daryl said. His voice turned shy and he looked back at his plate. “How much you think about other people, how much you give of yourself.” His left-hand thumbnail was in his teeth before he could stop himself.

Paul put down his chopsticks, reached over, and intertwined his fingers with Daryl’s free hand. “Daryl, did something happen today?”

Daryl stopped biting his nail and slid his chair out. Paul read the signal, rose, and came to sit in Daryl’s lap, holding his magnificent man’s face under his chin and kissing the top of Daryl’s head.

“I let my temper get out of hand,” Daryl confessed. “Somebody said sump’n, and I took it the wrong way, like they’s meanin’ we’re just in this thing for the sex.”

“Do you think we’re having too much sex?” Paul asked tentatively, his left hand stroking his partner’s heavenly face and tucking the long, chestnut hair behind Daryl’s right ear.

“ _Fuck_ no!” Daryl laughed. “I’m late to this game, man. If they have a problem with it, they can step up their own game, or go fuck themselves, or—hell, go fart in the bathtub and bite the bubbles.”

Paul huffed a small laugh at Daryl’s bathtub comment and nodded his agreement. “Graphically put.”

Daryl continued. “You and me? How much we fuck ain’t our problem.” He could tell Paul liked that answer; Daryl did too, because it was so true. “It’s like Carol says, ya know? ‘It’s a physical expression of how we feel.’”

“Do you think we’re fucking because we’re bored?” Paul asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory; rather, it was thought-provoking.

“Nah,” Daryl responded. “Ain’t nothing borin’ about you, and sex with you is—it’s like… It’s always new, and we’re both full of lightning and turbo-charged, even when we’re making it last and goin’ slow.”

“Is it because we’re desperate to keep each other?”

“Hell no.” The redneck was adamant.

Paul reached under Daryl’s chin and eased his beautiful archer’s head back to look into each other’s eyes. As soon as he saw those icy blue irises, Daryl couldn’t help but smile.

“Daryl, every time I see you, or touch you, or hear your voice, smell you on your clothes, or taste your breath, I fall deeper in love with you; you arouse me in every way, with the littlest things: your smile, your caring, your consideration, and a million other things, and that’s before we even get to the fact that you’re beautiful, and smart, and talented, and built like a god, or the fact that sex and intimacy with you makes me feel complete,” Paul explained softly. “I think you feel that way too…”

“I do!” Daryl blurted, his colossal arms drawing Paul closer still. “God knows I do! I think about you every minute of the day, and how much I want you—nah, how much I _need_ you, Paul—and how much I want you to be happy, and— _fuck_! I can’t help it, baby; I get hornier than a two-dicked dog!”

Paul laughed, and the sound tickled Daryl’s soul. “Perfectly spoken.” The actor kissed his gorgeous redneck and rested their heads together. “My strong, sweet, _perfect_ , _handsome_ man, you and I get this excited about each other at the drop of a hat—even if we’re far apart—because we truly _love_ one another. This isn’t lust. This is _real_ , and that’s why we want to make each other feel good all the time. And Carol’s right: it is the physical manifestation of our love for one another. This is how it’s _supposed_ to be.” 

Daryl sighed with relief and squeezed Paul closer in his god-like arms, listening to his wondrous lover’s heartbeat. “Your Daddy says were ‘making love even when we’re not making love.’”

“He’s a wise man,” said Paul.

They broke back apart to finish their dinners. Daryl thought he’d bust a gut on those dumplings, but the stir-fry itself—every bite of it was scrumptious, and he made damn sure Paul knew it before hopping up to clear their empty plates, put away the leftovers, and take care of the clean-up. He couldn’t stop Paul from helping him as his perfect partner began to spray the stove top with a de-greaser and wipe it down, clean and shiny.

“I know how you feel,” Paul admitted as he sprayed the island countertop. “I bounced this off Maggie too. I hope you don’t mind that.” Daryl shook his head; he could understand that since he’d mentioned this to Carol, and Maggie was their family too. “She’s trying to get Glenn to understand that she’s no longer fragile and that they can start to step up their sex game a bit more. They can’t fuck yet, but she says she’s definitely ready for some other activities. I told her she should rip off his shirt and get him to rip off her underwear right there in the living room. I mean, it works for us.”

Daryl’s smile lit up the room as he hung up the dish towel and sauntered of to his perfect partner. Paul stroked his handsome hunter’s face and looked into Daryl’s eyes, the bluest heart of the sea. 

**_“My one and only love.”_** The rollercoaster of emotion looped and banked hard. The pair broke their slow, deep kiss at the sound of paper rustling in the living room. The kitten had found its way into one of the large, golden, heavy envelopes that had fallen from the sofa to the floor. 

“Speaking of underwear…” said Paul.

Paul left Daryl’s lap long enough to help “Shadow” out of his adventurous predicament and over to his little food bowl. As soon as Paul picked him up and held him at his shoulder, the little feline’s purr motor went into overdrive. Daryl followed Paul to check the dog bowls, stopping to get a nose kiss from Shadow. By Dr Greene’s reckoning, if all went well with the puppies, they should have their eyes open in about ten days to two weeks. Paul was good to comfort the mother and check the puppies’ eyes, mouths, and navels for signs of swelling or infection the way his father had taught him. He held a tiny bottle of warm formula for them a couple of times when they cried out during the day, but Paul was careful to left the mother do most of the carrying and holding. Two things were certain: given the fast growth of these puppies and their astonishingly large paws, these dogs would be very large more likely than not, and their coloring was going to be more black and gray with whitish muzzles and undersides rather than the standard black and tan of a shepherd. Paul wondered if they were part husky or malamute or perhaps even Ovcharka. He would try to remember to ask his father about this when the puppies had their check-up next week.

Once the dogs and Shadow were seen about, Paul gathered up the packages from the living room and brought them back to the master bedroom. Daryl sat on the edge of the bed and watched, astounded at the various items Paul had purchased for them.

“Okay,” Paul began, hooking his thumbs into his own lounging pants and pushing them down to step out of them. “Here are the first ones.” Paul picked up a pair of swim trunks; they were royal blue with bands of fluorescent yellow about an inch wide at the waistband and the bottom leg openings. The suit fit Paul well. When he turned to ask Daryl how they looked, the hunter gave a nod of approval to go with his crooked smile. 

“Something wrong?” Paul asked.

Daryl shook his head. “Not that I can see. You like how they fit?”

“I do, actually,” Paul said. “I’ve been used to board shorts for so long.” He pointed to one of the packages. “I even got us a couple of pairs, but they’re just so safe. I want something fun and daring.” He picked up another suit. “Something you’ll appreciate.”

Daryl moved to kneel down in front of Paul, put his arms around his little ninja’s waist, and kiss his stomach. “You could wear a gunny sack, and I’d be locked on you onto you like a cruise missile.” 

Paul pulled Daryl back up, kissed him, and put him back on the edge of the bed. “I think we can do better than a gunny sack.” He removed the bright trunks and changed them for a metallic teal and silver pair of neoprene trunks. The teal portion outlined Paul’s package so nicely that Daryl gave a very appreciative moan. 

“So _these_ are a go!” Paul said, a smile breaking across his face from ear to ear. “Would you be up for trying on some?”

Daryl reached over for the bright yellow board shorts, then second-guessed his decision when he looked at Paul. He immediately tossed the board shorts back on the bed, pulled off his lounging pants, and took the dark red pair of swimming trunks Paul handed him. They fit like a dream. Next, Paul handed Daryl a pair of royal blue, form-fitting, trunk-style underwear that looked really fashionable but were somewhat confusing.

“What’s the hole for?” Daryl asked as he stopped midway through donning the shorts.

Paul stepped closer, his eyes shining with mischief. “That’s where Mr Happy and his pals go.” He reached down, took Daryl’s hefty, sheathed cock and heavy balls in hand and eased them. Into the fitted pouch, making the fabric expand. Daryl sighed hotly, then looked at himself in the mirror when Paul stepped behind him. 

“Feels like I ain’t even wearin’ anything,” Daryl mused. “But it really kinda pushes the boys out there.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paul moaned. He kissed Daryl’s left shoulder. “Me likey.” 

The unstoppable smile broke across Daryl’s face. “We need some more of these. For both of us!” 

The pair tried on a few more styles. Daryl even insisted that they both have a pair of new board shorts.

“You know why we instantly go for board shorts,” Paul intoned.

“Yeah,” Daryl chuckled, shrugged, and cocked an eyebrow. “Now, so does Shawn.”

Paul burst out laughing again and shook his head. Daryl looked at himself in the mirror again and turned sideways.

“You reckon I need to lay off the Carol’s Christmas cookies and your Mama’s pecan pie this holiday?” Daryl asked before turning back to see what Paul was trying on. “I mean, we are going to be on a beach and—Paul.” His swallow was audible.

Daryl had turned to find Paul in a pair of black swim trunks; the sides had open slits reminiscent of fish gills but far, far sexier, showing off Paul’s perfect skin. They also cradled his beautiful partner’s magnificent sex and ass in a way that cut Daryl’s voice off, leaving the big man stunned as his glorious actor walked up to put his arms around Daryl’s waist and place a kiss on his lips.

“I don’t care if we’re so skinny we can hang-glide on Doritos or so big that we have to be buried in piano boxes,” Paul stated, his voice as serious as a loaded gun. “As long as we’re healthy and happy, that’s all that matters to me. I am very much against body-shaming. So don’t ever worry about that, Superman. Besides,” Paul said, turning Daryl back to the mirror to pose him, hands sliding from the bulging biceps, over Daryl’s pectoral muscles, along his abs and stomach, and down his hips and upper thighs. “You look hot as fuck.”

Daryl smiled. “And I want to keep that way. Feel like hitting the gym with me tomorrow?”

Paul sighed. “I would love to go workout with you, but honestly, the gym in town is getting a bit intrusive.”

“Then we’ll go to the new gym.” Daryl picked up his phone and fired off a quick text.

“What new gym?” Paul asked. Obviously it was his turn to be confused.

“State of the art facility not too far from here,” Daryl answered mysteriously. The text reply was almost immediate. Daryl checked it and nodded. “We can get in as early as 5:30, but we have to be out by 7:30.”

“Okay,” Paul said, clearly happy to hear this news. “Now.” He untied the strings to Daryl’s trunks. “It’s time for more underwear…”

Daryl was really starting to like this particular fashion show. Once the couple had decided what they liked, they put everything in the laundry basket and prepped their gym bags for the next morning. They also laughed about the fact that Paul hadn’t selected any thongs, or “banana hammocks” as Daryl called them. Daryl also had calmed down about some of the price tags.

_“Six hundred and eighty-nine bucks for a pair of fuckin’ drawers???”_

“Yes, and it’s ‘Ver-SAH-chuh,’ not ‘Vur-SASE’ (kiss), and you’re worth all that and more! Now. Come here because I am want you to _fuck me senseless_!” Paul declared, lowering the shorts he was wearing to reveal his hard cock. “My Superman needs his Sunshine!”

Once they were finished and showered, the couple fell asleep together with Paul face down and Daryl lying partially on top of his beautiful partner, the man he’d just had riding him and had brought to climax all over his chest with powerful thrusts and strong strokes, the one who’d sucked at his throat, and in whom he’d just come so hard and deep. Daryl even impressed himself by staying hard inside his beautiful man while they kissed and expressed loving words and affection over and over until Paul’s hips had started to cramp, and all of Daryl’s earlier doubts and anger were cast out of his mind.

Daryl woke about a quarter past eleven to the shepherd’s barking. Paul stirred, but Daryl kissed his back. “I got this. Sleep.” Grumbling to himself, the redneck yanked on his new lounging pants and stepped out into the living room. “What’s wrong girl?” The shepherd turned her head and quieted, but she had her front paws up on the bay window of the kitchen. When she looked back, she barked again. Daryl stepped to the back of the house, picked up his shotgun, and returned to the split foyer and the garage entry. Tapping the code into the security system control keypad on the wall beside by the inner door, Daryl deactivated the door alarm and flipped on the external flood lamps mounted at the corners of his house. The yards lit up, and he heard footsteps running. Daryl opened the backdoor and charged outside. The shepherd ran out past him to sniff at the tracks in the yard. The frozen snow was nearly painful as it crunched underneath Daryl’s bare feet and up around his ankles in some spots. When he rounded the corner, a car door slammed and a vehicle—a Mustang it looked like—out on the road started up, its tires spinning and finally catching on the icy road. A growl accompanied the streak of dark fur that shot past him, barking like a demon from the pit, ready to eat the tires from the car. The car sped off and the shepherd gave chase. 

An ear-piercing whistle cut through the freezing night air, and the dog turned to trot back home and jump up on Daryl. The big man slung the shotgun over his shoulder and reached a hand down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “I know, girl. You’re all good. Let’s get you back to your pups.” Daryl walked back around to put the dog in the house, then stepped back to look at the tracks in the snow. Someone had parked at the end of the driveway, snuck up to the house, and walked around the back all the way to the back bedroom—his and Paul’s bedroom. Whoever it was hadn’t counted on the dog. He planned to call Rick in the morning. 

The back door opened again. “What happened?” came Paul’s voice, clearly worried. “Are you okay?” Paul stepped back to let Daryl inside, closing and re-locking the door behind his loving partner. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Just frozen feet. Somebody was out in the back yard. Probably another fan figured out you’re living over here now. Tomorrow I’ll—“ Daryl looked at his gorgeous man’s displeased countenance. Paul was fuming. This wasn’t two well-meaning bloggers. Hell, he’d gone outside actually prepared to shoot.

He retrieved his phone from the bedroom and called Rick. Fifteen minutes later, the sheriff’s SUV sat idling at the end of the driveway. Rick checked out the scene, took Daryl’s statement, and called in to set a patrol to ride through the neighborhood periodically over the next week. Paul and Daryl thanked him, and Rick enjoyed taking a quick moment to meet the new shepherd. 

“Who the lucky girl, say?” Rick whispered, letting the dog get her head up to nuzzle under his chin. “Carl wants to name her after some Game of Kings character or something, but I already told him. Her name is ‘Lucky.’” Daryl and Paul gave Rick a half smile. “We should know, right?” Just before midnight, Rick gave the guys both hugs and inquired about the cool lounge pants before heading back home.

Daryl reset the alarm, cut out the external flood lights, and winced as his feet began to burn with sensation now that they were no longer ankle-deep in snow. Paul took the shotgun from the kitchen table and returned it to the gun cabinet in the utility room. He grabbed two of the thick towels he’d popped into the dryer and raced back to Daryl and the shepherd, kneeling down to dry and warm their feet. Once the dog and her pups were settled (along with Shadow), Paul got Daryl back to bed, stripping him down and holding him close to warm his precious love back up.

A little over six hours later, Paul’s red Mazda MX-5 followed Daryl’s big Ford F-250 truck into the parking lot of King County High where they parked behind the new gymnasium right next to the shiny, black GMC Yukon Denali. Paul grabbed his bag and exited his car as it dawned on him that they’d reached their new gym. Daryl had just taken his phone out when the heavy, metal backdoor opened and Coach Negan stood in the doorway, grinning and waving them inside.

“Come the fuck inside!” Negan yelled. “It’s fucking colder than a Christian’s pity out here!”

The pair scurried inside and up the steps of the multi-story facility to find the place still smelled of new paint and fresh carpeting, nothing like the stale, sweat-stained gyms they remembered. Coach Negan’s record as the most winning coach in Georgia high school history gained the school’s athletic department big sponsorships and additional state funding for their retention programs. The gym had modern aerobics and weight-training machines, free weights, and rooms for step and spin classes. They followed Coach on a grand tour of the facility to his office, talking about the events of the night. Coach shook his head, and he handed Daryl and Paul each a shiny, new, brass key.

“I got these cleared with Aaron, so no worries,” Coach assured. “If any fucking paparazzi or bat-shit crazy fans show up, I will personally introduce them to Lucille and have them carted off to whatever deep, dark cell Rick has ready over at the King County Correctional Suites.”

Daryl chuckled, and Paul breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Coach,” Paul said. “This is so cool.”

“The whole place is Wi-Fied up,” Coach explained, leading them back out to the locker rooms. “Use the third option called ‘Steel.’ Password is ‘Nut-Sac.’” Paul chortled and Daryl just shook his head. Inside the changing area were dozens of new lockers, just like those found in a high-end gym. An equipment room was set off to the left side and locked behind walls of perforated metal cross-grid. Beyond the changing rooms and benches were four massage tables, four hydro-therapy tubs, and a managers’ station with laundry facility and stacks of fluffy white towels that smelled of a combination of laundry detergent, fabric softening sheets, and the sharp, light hint of bleach. Further in and to the right were the lavatory, urinals, and toilets; to the left there was a short hall that had two open shower areas with wall mounted shower heads on each side and two central pillar heads with five shower nozzles each. At the end of the wet area, they entered another locker room, clearly for the aquatic classes and teams given the amount of swimming equipment housed there. At the end of the tiled area was a privacy wall, around which was the entrance to the Olympic size pool and diving area.

“We can try out our new suits tomorrow!” said Paul.

“You don’t need any,” said Coach. “Just swim naked if you want. No one is in this facility until 8:30, and the windows are frosted.”

“Or, we can just skinny dip today!” Paul shrugged, catching a smile from Daryl.

“You sure there’s no students comin’ in?” Daryl asked. “We done traumatized Paul’s baby brother the other day.”

“Nobody but the three of us,” Coach confirmed jovially. “If that changes, I’ll let you know. Just do me a big fucking favor and don’t jizz in my fucking pool, you horny, lovesick fuckers.” With that, Coach led them back to the big varsity locker room and up to the weight room where they began their intense workouts.

Afterward, they did actually rinse down and swam a few laps before showering up and stepping back in the main changing room to get dressed. Paul looked up from pulling clothes out of his bag to see Daryl sitting naked on his towel on the bench, socks in hand as he looked around the locker room. “What’s on your mind, Superman?”

“I’s just thinkin’ about how I used to avoid the locker rooms like the goddamn plague when I was back in school,” Daryl admitted. “Wasn’t ever ashamed of anyone seeing my dick or getting a hard-on—well, maybe getting hard-on—but I didn’t want them to see my back or if I had bruises or burns…” The brawny redneck’s jaw set squarely, his mouth a line under the crushing weight of memory. “It would’ve only made things worse.” Looking up at his glorious actor brought a soft smile to the mechanic’s face and made the harsh thought scatter like leaves in the wind.

“Not much choice back at the home,” Paul confessed. “I just learned to get in and get done as quickly as I could or ignore people, especially when they saw that I _did_ , in fact, have a hard-on in the showers with the other guys.” He shook his head. “Having it become too big to hide wasn’t pleasant either. Well, I mean, once I was older and figured out that gay guys often like larger cocks, then I started looking at it as a blessing, but it was rough going there for a while. The martial arts helped.”

“Somebody tried to jump you?”

Paul nodded. “I got beat up pretty bad a couple of times. Not snitching about it didn’t make it go away, but seeing my bruises and cuts got me enough sympathy for permission to use my state welfare money to take gymnastics and martial arts after school. I started when I was nine. The added benefit of my activities keeping me away from my bullies helped too. The last time they jumped me, I was thirteen, and I was ready. One guy lost three front teeth, another had a dislocated shoulder, one got two black eyes, and the last got a busted lip and a broken nose.” Paul’s words weren’t bragging—far from it. He slowly, almost ashamedly looked back up to Daryl.

“I wish I coulda seen that,” said Daryl, reaching out and taking Paul’s hand.

“I hated having to do it,” Paul confessed. “But I had no choice.”

“Like with that foster care woman,” Daryl added. 

He watched Paul’s eyes narrow. “Jocelyn. She locked the one of the other foster kids, a girl named Lydia, in her bedroom so that one of her ‘friends’ could come over. When he got there, we had never seen him before. He was just some low-life she was going to pimp us out to. When I stood up to her, she told me I’d be next to learn my place, and she’d just get paid again.” Daryl reached up and took Paul’s hand. The contact broke Paul’s reverie, and he continued. “I ran to the kitchen to call the police, knowing that meant all of us going back to the home, but I didn’t care; it was better than waiting to be whored out. While I was on the phone she reached in one of the kitchen drawers and came at me with a butcher knife. I grabbed a hand towel, disarmed her, and kicked out, breaking her sternum. Dude was so shocked, he ran. I got his license number though. I had to pick the lock. Lydia was out of it, probably on something our caretaker gave her to make her pliant; she was just lying there, exposed and vulnerable; I covered her in the blanket and reported everything to the police when they arrived. I got sent to Georgia and never saw Lydia or the other kids again. Jocelyn went to jail. Three weeks later, I met Hershel and Annette Greene.”

“You did the right thing,” said Daryl, standing and embracing his beautiful man.

“Yo!” came Coach’s voice. “You fellas want some coffee?” The man strode through the room, his commanding presence clear. 

“Hell yeah, Coach!” said Paul, kissing Daryl as his own heart felt lighter.

“Good,” Coach bellowed. “Now, put away those _weapons of ass destruction_ , and come on back to my office.” Negan smiled knowingly, leaned away, and bounced back to a standing position, his stance one of humor and relaxed strength. Paul admired the man’s resilience.

Daryl laughed as he pulled a pair of black Lycra underwear that matched the ones Paul drew from his own bag. Once they were dressed and in the Athletic Director’s office, Coach offered the couple King County Knights coffee mugs and pointed to the Keurig machine. Daryl made coffee for the three of them and passed the cups around. 

The three of them talked and joked together for about twenty minutes before Daryl had to leave for work. “Oh, hey!” the brawny man said. “I need your car today. It’s on my schedule at the shop. I’ll do the other one tomorrow. Okay?”

“Oh, okay,” Paul nodded, kissing Daryl goodbye behind the gym just as Jessie Anderson dropped off Ron, Duane, and Carl.

“Uncle Daryl?” Carl called. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Is it Career Day?” Ron asked. “Because I want to work on _Death Ascendant_.”

“We could all go try out for zombies!” suggested Duane.

“If your parents agree, I don’t mind putting in a good word,” said Paul.

“Your uncles are lit as fuck!” said Ron.

“Keep it classy, boys,” yelled Jessie. “Later, guys!”

Daryl sighed. “We had coffee with Coach,” he answered, not wanting their new workout location released on social media even by accident. “You fellas better get to home room.” He turned to Paul and kissed him again. 

**_“Love you.”_** The ride banked, and the couple broke apart when they heard hoots from the occupants of a school bus that passed them on its way to deliver students. They ignored them.

“You wanna have lunch at _Short Round_? Say 12:30?” Daryl nodded his ascent. “And bring Patrick with you. I wanna hear all about this hickey on his neck.” The handsome mechanic smiled as he got in the Mazda sports car and headed off to work.

When Daryl arrived at the shop, he pulled the Mazda into Merle’s work bay. His big brother was waiting for him with a cardboard package and a conspiratorial smile reminiscent of the one on Merle’s face that fateful day at Six Flags. This time, Daryl was one of the conspirators. He turned off the engine and got out of the car. “Is that it?”

“Yep,” Merle answered, nodding. “Came in just before we closed yesterday. It was the FedEx lady’s last delivery. Nabila signed for it and locked it up in the office just like you asked. The muffler, flywheel, and racing chip are all here and ready to install.” Merle looked at his baby brother. “You want a hand?”

Daryl gave Merle a crooked smile. “Thanks, man.” 

Merle nodded and clasped hands with Daryl. “Let’s do this.” The two brothers put themselves to task. As they worked, Daryl was thrilled to learn that Chance was being spoiled rotten by the Dixon-Peletier household.

Later at lunch, Patrick blushed telling Daryl and Paul how wonderful things were going with Benjamin. They had taken a trip to Zoo Atlanta over in Grant Park to see the new Bengal tiger exhibit.

“Shiva is amazing!” Patrick exclaimed. “You guys have to go see her. When she roared, I nearly peed.” 

“It’s been ages since I visited the zoo,” said Paul, turning to Daryl. “Have you been?”

“Way back in middle school on a field trip,” Daryl said, huffing a laugh. “But I’m game. Sorry to cut this short, Sunshine, but we gotta get back. Things to do.”

“Go get ‘em, boys,” Paul said, kissing Daryl and taking the bill away from Patrick. “I got this.”

By the end of the day, Daryl and Merle drove the Mazda out to a deserted stretch of highway beyond Old Sanctuary Road. They maintained two hash-mark lines in white reflective spray paint exactly 440 yards apart: the quarter mile, a test run for their engine performance. Merle got out and guided Daryl to hold the front edge of the MX-5 with the first marker. Merle took out a digital stopwatch, got back in the vehicle, and secured his seatbelt. 

“Counting down,” Merle said, clicking the timer and watching the readout. “Five, four, three, two…”

Daryl revved the engine. At Merle’s word, he surged forward, tired squealing and leaving black trails behind the little vehicle as it flew down the road. Daryl yelled “60!” to Merle; the elder Dixon clicked one of the buttons on the stopwatch. Again Daryl yelled, “Line!” Merle pressed a second button.

Daryl slowed the car and found a spot where they could turn around. “Well?”

“Zero to sixty in four-point-one-seven seconds, quarter mile in twelve-point-five-two seconds,” Merle announced.

“Pretty fucking good,” Daryl said. “You wanna try?”

“Fuck yeah, son!” said Merle. The brothers traded places and ran the car through the quarter mile again with nearly similar results, both screaming a rebel yell at the top of their lungs and thoroughly pleased with their results. Please with their success, the two drove back to the shop where Daryl dropped off Merle next to his truck in the parking lot. “You better tell that man of yours about his early birthday present before he takes off in this little rocket ship.”

Daryl nodded, and Merle turned to go. “Merle!” The big man turned back to see Daryl getting out of the car and running over to him. Before he knew it, Daryl had him in a bone-crushing hug. Merle just hugged him back and waited patiently.

“It’s okay, _Darylina_ ,” Merle jibed, then replied in a quieter, more serious voice, “I love you, too.”

“Fuck you!” Daryl laughed, breaking away and wiping his eyes. “I just—I ain’t got the right words just this second.”

Merle put his hands on Daryl’s wide shoulders and caught his brother’s deep blue eyes. “That’s the beauty of it, son. You don’t have to have ‘em. Look here: I am goddamn _proud_ to work beside you every day. And all this?” Merle dipped his head once toward the vehicle. “I did all this because I _like_ working with you, and because it’s a gift for my future brother-in-law. So dry them eyes up, man. Ya can’t go home looking all sappy and shit.” 

Daryl sniffed heavily, spit, and shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Thanks, man,” Daryl murmured, watching as his older brother nodded, sniffed once, and blinked something from his eyes. “Y’all come out to eat with us tonight. We’ll take y’all over to _Barrington House_.”

“Oh fuck,” Merle laughed. “You tryin’ to get both of us laid tonight, huh?”

“You know it,” Daryl said, not joking.

“By the way,” Merle added. “I talked to Rosita last night. We been so busy today I forgot to tell you: We got The Reflex all lined up for the shop party the night before Christmas Eve. I told everybody to be there, and folks are bringing a full house. They gonna cater everything, got an open bar, and games galore, pool tables, bowling. I even got Abraham coming in special to DJ and run karaoke if folks want. Hashtag handled.”

Daryl cracked up at Merle’s use of “hashtag.” “Man, that’s _perfect_. Which menu?”

“The one we wanted, man!” Merle confirmed. “They can do seafood and prime rib. We can close at 4:30. The party will start at six and run ‘til ten or so.”

Daryl gave his brother’s shoulder a knock and jerked his head toward Merle’s truck. “Get home to your family, man. See you guys at the restaurant at 7:30.”

“Go home to yours, baby brother,” Merle ordered, starting to turn but stopping short. “Hey! Speaking of shindigs, does he suspect anything?”

“About the birthday party?” Daryl asked, then shook his head. “Nah, it’s all set up for the twenty-first, and everything’s under wraps. Maggie ain’t telling Glenn until the day of so he can’t spill the beans.”

“That gal’s a pistol,” said Merle. 

“Yep,” Daryl agreed. “Even got Connor and Dianna coming down special for it along with some of the crew who’re close to Paul. Siddiq managed to book the Longleaf Ballroom at Callaway Gardens; they had a cancellation, so we lucked out. Phillip’s handling the open bar sets. Gareth and Miss Mary from _Grade A Butcher’s Boxcar_ over in Griffin are gonna be running a continuous grill line for everybody, like one of them fancy Brazilian steak joints; just order when you want it. Eduardo’s got the music, and there’s hotel rooms, if anybody wants to stay.”

“Uh,” Merle started, a hint of worry in his voice. “I know it ain’t really none of my business, man, but just how much is that runnin’ you? I mean two big parties and Christmas time and all.” Daryl caught the worry in the elder Dixon’s voice.

“First of all, no, it ain’t, but I can see how you might be worried,” Daryl confirmed. “And second, let’s just say that after my meeting two weeks ago with Milton, I got this easy. Third, sounds like you haven’t checked your bonus deposit nor your latest check, have you?” Daryl said, a grin on his face.

Merle took out his cell phone and accessed his banking app. After a couple of moments, a look of complete shock solidified on the big man’s face. “This—this some kinda fuckin’ joke? I’m—did you put Milton up to this?”

Daryl shook his head, still grinning. “Merry Christmas, and job well done, Mr Co-owner.”

“Holy shit!” Merle looked up. Daryl could see his brother’s eyes run wet and shiny. He stepped over and hugged Daryl tight. “Saying thank you don’t seem like a whole lot, does it.” Merle’s voice was soft and scratchy. 

“I wouldn’t be where I am if you and Carol and Rick hadn’t believed in me,” Daryl said flatly. “But if _you_ hadn’t talked me into going to Six Flags that day, I never woulda met Paul.” Merle Dixon truly cried, hugging his little brother in a near bone-crushing embrace right there under the security light of the shop’s parking lot. Then, he broke away, yelled out, and jumped around, celebrating the fruition of their hard work overcoming their even harder upbringing. When he’d nearly fallen over and busted his head open laughing and carrying on, Merle strode back over and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You’re the best. Be careful goin’ home.”

“You too, man,” said Daryl as he got back into the newly super-charged sports car and headed home to pick up Paul and get ready. “See y’all in a little bit.”

Daryl arrived home to find that Paul had been a very busy bee that day as well. The house had the latest Echo towers in each room connected to the expanded Wi-Fi network. There were also multiple high-definition video cameras surveying the entrances, the driveway, and the corners of the house; each could be viewed using the security apps Paul installed on their phones. Daryl wasn’t sure how well he was going to get along with “Alexa,” but he was willing to give the technology a try. Paul was blown away by the augmented performance of his car. Daryl planned to take the Mazda 6 sedan the next day to give it some upgrades. He even took Paul out to the test strip to let him experience the car’s improved power and speed before heading over to meet Merle, Carol, and Sophia. 

In actuality, Daryl and Paul arrived at the restaurant a tad late as Paul felt it necessary to ensure that Daryl knew exactly how much he liked the new upgrades to his car. That delightful understanding came in the form of Daryl receiving a killer blowjob in the front seat of the sports car.


	17. Twisted Horseshoe Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday weekend, holiday parties, Christmas Eve, and enough excitement to wreck it all. Hold on tight! The ride just got faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a heaping dose of fluff, more Easter eggs, holiday cheer, and a scary moment because I was watching The Long Kiss Goodnight for part of it. Oh, and it has so much SMUT--shameless amounts, because I can get you on the naughty list! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated as they are creative fuel (especially comments!)! 
> 
> Thank you, and best wishes of the season to all!  
> Merry Ho, and Happy Reading! XOXO

“Gentlemen,” said the valet, opening the passenger door for Paul. “May I take your bags for you?”

Daryl pressed a button to open the trunk, stepped out of the driver’s seat and into the cold air, and traded the claim ticket from the second valet for a fifty-dollar bill. The young man who had greeted the couple and opened Paul’s door now stood still, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as recognition hit him full-on. The handsome mechanic smiled to himself and stepped to the back of the car to get their luggage. The young man immediately snapped from his reverie and rushed in with a shiny, brass roll-cart to secure the bags for the couple and shut the trunk again.

“Thanks,” Daryl said, slipping him a fifty as well. The second valet drove away to the private parking lot.

“Thank you so much,” said Paul, smiling and reaching out to shake the guy’s hand.

“Oh my god! You’re really _are_ Merlin!” the valet exclaimed.

“Hey! I’m Paul Rovia, and yes, I play Merlin on _Death Ascendant_ ,” Paul answered. “I take it you follow the show?”

“Oh yeah!” The young man nodded emphatically. “You are such a badass!” The young man looked down to see the awesome, blood-red, Chelsea boots with the gold trim at toe and heel. “Oh my god! Those boots are lit! Where’d you get ‘em?”

“I bought them on a trip to London, actually.” Paul huffed a laugh. “Thank you! It’s nice to meet you…“ Paul checked the name tag. “Bryce! Well, Bryce, I hope you enjoy the show.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too, Mr Rovia, and I will—uh, I mean, I _do_ ,” the young man faltered, clearly nervous. He did his best to recover his professional stance. “I mean—Welcome to _The Lodge and Spa at Callaway Gardens_! We’re pleased to have you stay with us!”

Paul smiled and inclined his head. “We’re really happy to be here! This is my partner, Daryl, and feel free to call me ‘Paul.’ C’mere, bud.” Paul gave Bryce a hug and the young man turned deep red.

Daryl helped Bryce put the luggage and a hanging garment bag on the cart, shook his hand, and leaned in, whispering, “Don’t worry, man. I still get flustered every time it hits me that he wants to be with me.” Daryl knew Paul overheard and caught his beautiful man smiling.

Bryce gave a nervous smile and took a breath. He readied the cart and pushed it along behind the handsome men as they all walked along the covered walkway to the front doors of the resort.  
Paul reached the double-door entrance and held the door for his love and the young valet.

Inside the atrium, cheerful holiday music played softly in the background. A breathtakingly elegant 12-foot fir tree stood in the center of the room; a myriad of tiny white lights and dozens of glittering gold and white ornaments were reflecting up softly in the polished, parquet floors. Each of the windows had evergreen boughs of fresh holly and ivy tied up with gold-trimmed ribbon in a red and green tartan. A large fire flickered in the flagstone fireplace along the north wall, throwing out golden warmth to the occupants of the waiting areas comfortable armchairs and sofas. 

Daryl stepped over to the concierge desk at the south side of the atrium. Paul took the opportunity to admire his magnificent man. Daryl had on a deep, jewel-tone, garnet-colored silk shirt with his sleeves rolled up, a gold and black tie, a six-button vest of black suede, a pair of black Louboutin boots with shiny black studs on the toes and heels, and tight, black jeans; they hugged the redneck’s muscular ass and made Paul’s heart beat faster. That Daryl had whisked him away for a birthday weekend at the resort had taken him completely by surprise.

An attractive older lady with sharp, dark eyes and iron-colored hair streaked with bright silver greeted the couple with an inviting smile. “Happy holidays, and welcome to _The Lodge and Spa at Callaway Gardens_.” She glanced at her computer screen then back up. “Misters Dixon and Rovia?”

Daryl nodded and turned to hold out a hand toward Paul. He was at Daryl’s side in an instant. 

“Wonderful! I’m Molly,” she said, offering a hand to shake with each of them. “I’m the Executive Manager. You fellas are right on time!” Molly pulled up a small envelop on which was written: “King Suite 240.” 

“These are your key cards,” Molly explained, handing the envelope over to Paul and making a couple of clicks with the computer mouse before nodding to an assistant and stepping around the counter. “Mr. Dixon, your card is already on file, and you’re both checked in for Suite Two-Forty. It’s one of our finest King Suites. If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you to your rooms.” She nodded to Bryce who went ahead, presumably to use a freight-service elevator. 

Molly showed Paul and Daryl to the nearest guest elevator, and they moved up to the second floor. Movement caught Paul’s eye as they exited the elevator and two people moved beyond the turn off half way down the corridor.

“Wait! Was that--?”

“What?” Daryl inquired, a gentle hand on the small of Paul’s back as he direct them behind Molly.

“Nothing—just, I thought I saw Carl and Sophia running the other way,” Paul explained.

Daryl looked back and shook his head. “Why would they be here?” Paul shrugged and shook his head.

The suite was warm and inviting. A work desk and kitchen area led into a living room area with a large flat-screen television that was already turned on and playing an interactive guest menu on a looping cycle. A similar television played in the bedroom were Paul found a tremendous king-size bed with a white duvet and six downy pillows. Paul noticed the lights turn on over to his right at the closet area where Bryce was dropping off their luggage. They thanked Bryce and Molly, and once the manager and valet had exited, Daryl swept Paul up in a warm embrace, backing him toward the huge bed. They tumbled down together on top of the bed, all smiles and laughter. Daryl lay on his right side and propped his head up with his arm, the fabric strained by the big muscle underneath. The handsome hunter leaned over and kissed his gorgeous actor slow and deep. They spent the next half hour sharing their adorations, spoken and unspoken. 

“I’m loving this,” Paul whispered as he shifted to sit up and pulled Daryl’s head into his lap.

“That’s what I wanna hear, Sunshine,” Daryl said, a crooked smile breaking across his features. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” said Paul. “And not just for the fine dining.”

Daryl growled hotly. “We got a whole weekend of five-star fuckin’ ahead of us.” It pleased Daryl to see that the extra towels he had ordered were already waiting on the dresser.

Paul laughed, “Good thing we got the full-day spa treatment at _Safe Zone_ today. We may not be leaving the room very much.” Daryl squinted, his eyes full of lust as he pulled Paul over to lie on top of him and worked his way up the man’s chest with kisses and under Paul’s chin to kiss his throat. Paul shuddered happily. 

Daryl pulled back and looked at his fantastic little ninja. Paul stroked Daryl’s cheek, admiring his handsome man’s recent trim.

“Your hair looks as awesome as the day of our first date,” Paul stated.

Daryl exhaled a laugh, but then he gave that shy look. “Gotta keep you interested.” Paul could tell that it was only the fact that Daryl’s fingers were presently intertwined with his own that kept the thumbnail from seeking the man’s mouth. 

“Just so you know,” Paul replied, the weight of his words reflecting in his eyes and the look on his face. “You’ve got me.” He languished in the breathy smile that simply gushed out of his glorious redneck. Paul leaned in and kissed Daryl again, sucking at the mechanic’s tongue, letting the bigger man have his way.

They came up from the kiss. Daryl adjusted himself as his pants were much tighter. Paul had a devilish grin on his face. The black shirt, black silk tie, and deep crimson vest fit the actor flawlessly. The slim, black jeans clung to him, and Daryl could see he wasn’t alone in his hardened situation. Paul moved to the closet and unzipped the garment bag, retrieving the mechanic’s black Prada blazer and his own Viktor Luna quilted, crimson velvet coat.

They both used the bathroom, washed up, and put on their jackets to get ready for their dinner reservation. Paul turned off the televisions as he waited for Daryl. When the man walked in, they both took in the sight of each other.

 ** _“You’re so beautiful.”_** The roller coaster looped around their spirits, and a moment later, the couple broke the kiss they had been sharing in the doorway to the bedroom when Daryl’s phone chimed with a text message. He pulled the phone from his back pocket and checked it.

“What’s up?” asked Paul.

“Oh, uh—our dinner reservation is ready,” Daryl answered.

“Oh, sweet!” said Paul. He gave Daryl another peck on the lips before making sure they had their key cards and heading out together.

Reaching the atrium again, Daryl touched Paul’s arm and pulled them to the right and into a long hallway. The overhead signage indicated that they were entering the conference area.

“Where are we going?” Paul asked quietly. Through the windows he could see the pool area out back. The scent of grilling meat met the couple as they walked along.

“We’re gettin’ there,” Daryl said. Paul gave him a half-smile. Something was up. Daryl pulled him to the door of the ballroom, reached out, and opened the door, peeking inside into the darkness. “In here.”

Paul looked back. “What—?“ Daryl kissed him, then pulled back and raised his eyebrows, jerking his head towards the darkened room, the leer on his face promising excitement out of the norm.

Paul chortled. “Are you _serious_?” Daryl nodded back playfully, biting his bottom lip. “What about our reservation?”

“They ain’t overloaded tonight; they’ll fit us in,” Daryl assured, pulling Paul into the dark room. “C’mon. Come in here with me for a minute.” They moved a bit farther inside.

“You know good and well that this is gonna take more than a minute, Daryl Dixon,” said Paul, laughing. “Oh! Don’t throw your clothes too far away or we’ll never find them. God, you are gonna get us so much trouble, Superman!”

“I sure hope so,” Daryl said, holding Paul in the darkness and slotting their lips together as they fumbled with each other’s belt buckles.

“You boys better keep your breeches on!” yelled a man’s voice.

“Happy Birthday, pumpkin!” came a second familiar voice, cutting through the blackness. 

Paul gasped in recognition of the unmistakable voices of Hershel and Anette Greene.

The lights came on with a thunderous cry of “Surprise!” from a crowd of nearly sixty people. They stood farther into the room but close enough to have heard the prior conversation quite clearly. Hoots and hollers from the crowd gathered. Paul turned almost as crimson as his coat as the two of them turned away a second and began hastily to re-buckle their belts. Paul laughingly muttered, “Oh, fuck!” to Daryl.

“Busted!” came the unison cry of Rick and Merle.

Paul and Daryl turned back to find the ballroom decorated in white and gold finery. A fourteen foot Christmas tree covered with over two-thousand lights in a rainbow of colors and topped with a scintillating star dominated the far side of the room. Around the central dancefloor area sat eight large, round tables with beautiful white tablecloths. Each had a spray of magnolias leaves and blossoms, and in the middle of each table there were large, cut-glass wat basin centerpieces in which half a dozen green and gold candles floated, bathing each table in a soft, golden glow.

Daryl smirked, thoroughly amused at his handiwork. “Happy Birthday, Sunshine,” said the beautiful redneck with the ocean-blue eyes, taking Paul by the waist and pulling him closer. “You ain’t mad none, are ya?”

“Mad?” Paul asked. “Absolutely not, but Mr Dixon, you are _totally_ getting a spanking later,” Paul murmured. Daryl smiled wide, lifted Paul off the floor, and kissed him to more delighted cheers.

 ** _“I love you more than anything.”_** The ride accelerated to blinding speed.

They finally parted to floor-shaking applause as lights pulsed and music erupted into being; DJ Eduardo turned up the volume. Dr and Mrs Greene came to hug their sons, admonishing them jokingly. Rick, Merle, and Shane, however, teased them mercilessly. Michonne, Carol, and Lori were no better. Beth, Zach, Shawn, and his date—a pretty brunette girl from Woodbury by the name of Rowan—came to get in their birthday wishes. Sasha and Bob, Tyreese and Karen, and Tara and Denise followed in the procession of endless hugs and kisses. Carl and Sophia came over; Judith grinned and reached out to Paul. Paul’s smile lit up as he took Judith in his arms, the three-year old hugging him tight and telling him all about her new sweater with the blinking lights. Daryl looked at Carl and Sophia with pursed lips and a knowing stare.

“We’re sorry, Uncle Daryl,” Carl backpedaled. “We had just gotten Judith back to Mom’ and Shane’s room, and we were heading down to you two walked out of the elevator.”

Paul looked at Daryl with a side-eye. “Mm-hmm,” he confirmed. Daryl shrugged.

“You’d have both rather walked through hell’s half-acre in gasoline drawers than to ruin the surprise,” Daryl added to the teens jokingly.

“Uncle Darry?” Judith asked.

“Yes, baby,” Daryl answered.

“Can I stay with you and Jesus tonight and see the doggies?” 

“ _Judith_ ,” Carl stressed. “You know Mom already said ‘no’ and not to ask them that.”

Judith crinkled his cute little nose up toward her big brother. “ _You’re_ not the boss!” She clung tighter to Paul. Carl just sighed and shook his head.

“C’mere, baby,” Daryl said softly, reaching out for the little girl. Judith transferred like a koala to a fresh eucalyptus branch. “Did your Mama say you couldn’t stay tonight?” Lil’ Ass-Kicker looked abashed. They both knew the answer. Daryl coaxed the truth again. “Hmm?”

Judith finally nodded, but then whined, “Yes, but if you ask she might say yes.”

“I think she might get upset with me and Paul if I go against her word,” Daryl explained patiently, kissing Judith’s temple. “You don’t want Mama to be mad at us, do you? You wouldn’t want her to cry. She loves you so much. I tell you what. Before we go to Europe, we’ll have a sleepover, okay? And we’ll talk to all your parents, and make sure everybody is okay, all right?”

Judith made a sad face, her frown pronounced. She had had a picture of herself rolling in puppies and cozying up to the new shepherd, and unfortunately, her evening was moving toward disappointment.

“Judith?” Paul added, getting the little girl’s attention. “Right now, the puppies still have their eyes closed, and they need their mommy so much.”

“They can’t see?” Judith asked, wondering how that worked.

“Not yet, sweet pea” Paul explained. “They keep their eyes closed for a couple of weeks. Their mommy doesn’t like it when people touch them right now. Right now, they can’t get around, and they need their mommy the way you did when you were born, but in a few weeks, the puppies will be ready and moving around, and Miss Lucky will be coming over to live with you and Carl and Michonne and your Dad.”

Judith moved back over to Paul, full of questions about the puppies and how waiting was good for them and the mother. She also mentioned her desire for a Barbie Escalade before Lori came over, and Lil’ Ass-Kicker apologized to her mom for asking to have a sleepover, then went with her to get her plate and have some dinner.

Jared and Alden made their way over to see Paul and take pictures. Jared’s shirt read “Fleet Street School of Cosmetology.” 

“Blessed Be Chaka Khanuh-kah!” called Jared, smiling brightly and planting a friendly kiss on Paul’s lips. “That’s Yule, Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa all in one!”

Alden followed, wishing Paul a happy birthday. They both gave Daryl a peck as well. 

“You two look delicious!” Jared pointed out. “Now, ain’t y’all glad I talked you both into getting your balls and taint waxed this morning?”

Paul burst out laughing. “We’re feeling totally refreshed, thanks to you, Eric, and Bertie,” Paul replied.

Daryl just shook his head and pulled the two men in close. “We love y’all,” said Daryl, hugging their friends. “Thank you for bein’ here.”

“Always, man,” Alden said. “You know we wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Next year, we should round up the crew and take off to the Mediterranean,” suggested Paul. “Maybe somewhere nice and warm with a very relaxed dress code.”

“Or an optional one,” Jared suggested, purring at his man like Eartha Kitt.

“Start saving now,” Alden said to Jared.

“Oh, no!” Paul countered. “We’ll have everyone taken care of, believe me.” 

“If you say so,” Alden surrendered. Paul nodded to them both.

“You think we’d lose the paparazzi on a nude beach?” Daryl scoffed.

“I have faith in us,” Paul said, kissing Daryl on the beauty mark just above his mustache at the left side of his mouth.

Daryl hugged Aaron gingerly. The man had his left arm in a sling after having slipped, fallen on it badly, and thoroughly sprained his elbow in an effort to catch Gracie before she tried to make her way off the bed by herself; he’d stepped away for a just second to answer Eric’s call from back in the living room. From the exasperated sighs of Eric and Maggie, the boys had been swapping “war stories” for the last half hour. Sasha brought over a couple of whiskey drinks for the couple. 

Gareth and his crew from _Grade A Butcher’s Boxcar_ swept into the venue with a full buffet set up: lighting cans of Sterno™ beneath water baths; loading deep pans of savory side dishes and hearty pastas; uncovering various bowls of crisp salad, baskets of crusty breads, and trays of decadent desserts, weighting china and silverware; and marching through with massive skewers of various meats, serving fresh cut portions at the requests of the guests. Miss Mary was overseeing the flow and directing staff to serve beverages at the tables.

Two hours later, the party was in full swing. Guest were dancing—Daryl even pulled Paul onto the dance floor. 

Carol announced that in lieu of gifts, they had collected over $5000 to donate in Paul’s name to an organization in Atlanta that provides shelter, food, and support systems from homeless LGBTQ+ youth. Paul made an impromptu speech to thank everyone for coming. Greene Farm, Short Round, and Dixon Bros were making matching donations.

“Hello, everyone!” Paul said into the microphone. “Let me start by saying that thirty-two feels so much better than twenty-nine. Things have changed a lot, and I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams how much better they would be. I’m so very touched and humbled by the amount of kindness, generosity, and love present and exemplified in the wonderful friends and family gathered here tonight.” Paul wiped at the corner of his eye and took a breath. “It’s like living out the final scene of _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , only my angel already has his wings.” The statement drew sounds of verbal agreement. “I appreciate the gestures made to this charity. It’s incredibly close to my heart, and I thank you all. I got several really nice calls today: showrunners, executives, directors, and some of the most incredibly talented people working in Hollywood and here in our own backyard now. Andy Kennedy and Laura Cowan both called this morning. At lunch, I was on a three-way with Connor Reedus and Jeffrey Dean Morris, and—“

“You had a _three-way_?” Daryl blurted, in mock surprise, watching as his beautiful man realized the faux pas sentence. 

Paul just dropped his head, closed his eyes, and nodded, completely mortified. “A three-way _phone call_ ,” he clarified, looking up to see the love of his life grinning back at him. “And they send their love and birthday wishes, but having my family and friends here, having the man I love here, spending this evening especially with all of you—that means the most to me. Thank you all, and please enjoy yourselves tonight! Love you!”

Before 11:00 PM, Daryl stepped away from the party and out back to have a cigarette. Gareth’s team were doing the same, having broken down their grill sets and prepped them for departure. Daryl watched them, enjoying the cool silence of the clear, bright sky with a waxing moon and shining stars above.

“Hey, baby brother,” came Merle’s voice, his words slightly slurred.

“You feelin’ good, man?” Daryl asked. He and Paul had cut themselves off hours in anticipation of the night ahead. Daryl reached out a hand to steady his big brother. Merle’s smile reminded him of their mother and what little he could recall of those fun times during holidays long ago and now relegated to distant, imperfect memory.

“Right as rain,” Merle answered. “You ‘bout to go sweep Hollywood upstairs? Give him a real good birthday present?”

Daryl nodded. “Mm-hmm. I’m ‘bout to head that way.”

“Y’all are coming over to Rick’s for Christmas Eve?” Merle asked.

“We ain’t gonna miss that,” Daryl assured. “Paul wants to go shopping for more stuff tomorrow. He’s hell-bent on spending on folks this year. Says he wants to while he can.”

“Nothing wrong with a little splurge every once in a while,” Merle agreed, then shuddered in the cold air; he’d left his jacket inside. “You ain’t finished with that yet? C’mon, man. It’s cold as a well-digger’s ass out here.”

Daryl put out his cigarette and re-entered the building with Merle, handing the big man off to Carol on his way to find Paul. He found his beautiful actor talking with his other brother, Michonne, and Lori. Paul saw him and reached out a hand. Daryl took it and closed the gap.

“So Daryl,” Lori said, that look in her eye that said she was planning something. “Our youngest tells us that she’s invited to a sleepover when you go to get churros?”

Rick and Michonne started laughing.

“She thought you said something about churros when you said Europe,” Paul clarified.

Daryl huffed a laugh and looked at Paul. “I see a massive blanket fort in our future?” Paul smiled wide. Daryl looked back at the others. “She can come for a sleepover. I don’t think she’d be scared at our house, do you?”

“She’s spent the night between our house and Lori’s,” Rick said. “Shouldn’t be a problem with you guys.”

Paul felt Daryl’s hand slip to the small of his back. The conversation went on for a couple of more minutes, talking about the new dog and how good she was. Michonne wanted to meet the dog and introduce the kids to her before the move. Paul agreed that was a great idea. He felt Daryl’s hand slide lower to his right ass cheek, lightly squeezing. Paul kept a straight face, but it wasn’t easy. Rick was talking about probably needing some help putting together a tricycle for Judith and sneaking in the new guitar for Carl. The fingers of Daryl’s left hand pressed up and down on the fabric over the crack of Paul’s ass. That got a sharp inhale.

“We’ll be there,” Paul blurted out. “No worries!”

Michonne caught on first. “Much love, birthday boy! We’re gonna let you guys head out.”

Rick and Lori made their goodbyes; others followed suit. Aaron and Eric were driving Jared and Alden back to their place. Olivia and Eugene brought Coach by on their way out. Coach’s not-so-whispered suggestion of what the boys should be doing at that exact moment made the other two school teachers turn red as they ushered the laughing, bawdy man along toward the exit. Once the couple had kissed their families goodnight, and bid farewell to the last few partygoers, they made their way back to the lavish suite. 

Daryl inserted the card key and opened the door. Paul entered and pulled his glorious partner in behind him. Daryl paused just long enough to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outside door handle then turned back to follow his beautiful man into the bedroom, switching off the front room lights as he went along and removing his blazer. Paul had she his boots, coat, and vest; the actor’s shirt. Daryl watched as Paul slowly, silently slid his belt from the loops, curled it, and stowed it in one of the pouches of the hang-up bag. Months before, Paul had caused Daryl to cringe one evening at the baleful sound of the heavy belt flying through the loops when he’d pulled his belt off too fast after a long, grueling day on set. Daryl assured him over and over that it was just an old reflex; he knew Paul felt horrible about it. It had taken half the night to get Paul to forgive himself. From that moment on, Paul took extreme care with anything that might be an old trigger to Daryl’s past, and Daryl loved him even more for it. 

Daryl came back to the present as Paul saw him standing in the door, staring. The smile on Paul’s face was everything in the world at that moment.

“I got sump’n for ya,” Daryl said.

“You’ve done all this already, Superman,” Paul protested. Daryl just shook his head and sauntered into the room and over to his luggage.

“Here,” Daryl said, walking back over with a heavy envelope. He handed it to Paul who reached in and found a silver Tiffany & Co frame with the picture Beth had taken of the two of them on the porch at the farm. There were also two lanyards with season passes for each of them to Six Flags. “They ain’t much,” Daryl said, giving a timid shrug. “I hope you like ‘em.”

“Daryl, oh god! Thank you!” Paul exhaled, his eyes wet. “I love you!” The kiss was fireworks and lightning.

Daryl eased Paul back to the end of the bed. “I’d like you to do something.” 

“Okay,” Paul said, fingerings unbuttoning Daryl’s vest and working it off those god-like shoulders.

“The park opens back up the last Saturday in March,” Daryl said, his voice rasping with desire as he removed Paul’s shirt while simultaneously kissing his gorgeous actor’s neck and left collarbone right above the word “Sunshine.” “I’d like it if the both of us to clear our calendars for that day. It’d be a nice family day, bein’ there with you, all bundled up, ridin’ roller coasters and eatin’ junk food, us wearing our wings. You reckon we make that happen?” As he spoke, Daryl pulled the duvet and blanket down to the foot of the bed, unfurled three of the extra towels, and lay them out on the bed.

Paul looked back at him and nodded; the man was throwing it right across the plate, and Paul was ready. “Done!” He reached into his open suitcase and pulled out their favorite lubricant, tossing it on the bed.

Daryl took Paul in his arms, kissed him deeply, and eased Paul onto his back on the bed. On breaking the kiss, Daryl began pulling Paul’s open jeans and underwear down together in one well-practiced move before getting the socks off. Paul’s impressive member was well on its way to fully hard as it slapped back against his stomach. He leaned up and pulled Daryl forward by the belt to cover himself with the handsome mechanic. Daryl’s burning kiss set Paul’s soul aflame, sucking the young man’s tongue into his mouth. Their tongues found and tasted each other eagerly, the sweet taste of whiskey on lips mingling with their scents and velvet textures.

Daryl rolled his partner over and let his strong hands work Paul’s shoulders and back. He kissed down his man’s spine and made Paul moan and look back, smiling brightly with appreciation of Daryl’s foreplay game. Daryl worked farther down, making Paul’s thighs quiver and kissing the backs of his knees and his calf muscles. Finally, Daryl gave Paul’s ass more attention, occasionally running a finger along the cleft and tantalizing Paul’s entrance with one hand while reaching beneath him to fondle Paul’s cock and balls.

The big man leaned over on top of Paul. “There you go, Sunshine,” Daryl whispered, breathing his words into Paul’s willing mouth to be savored and consumed. “Make a wish.” Paul gasped at the increasing grip of Daryl’s hands.

Daryl rose to his knees, turned Paul over, and hoisted him up. Paul started frantically working Daryl’s belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He could feel Daryl’s hard-on straining underneath the denim; he wasn’t wearing underwear and there was a sizeable wet spot. Daryl thrust his legs back and shimmied out of the pants, tossing them and his socks asunder to make his way back to Paul in the center of the bed. Paul felt himself being lifted by the hips, his knees hooking over Daryl’s broad, beautiful shoulders. A cry of delight ripped from Paul’s throat as he felt Daryl’s warm breath on his sac, each of his balls taken into Daryl’s mouth and tongued lovingly, painstakingly.

Paul anchored his arms and craned a bit to meet Daryl’s eyes. The strapping hunter licked a swath at his perineum, and Paul’s cock twitched, a string of pre-come dripping like spun sugar. Daryl sunk lower to the tiny ring of muscle, his left arm holding Paul up, his right hand taking hold of Paul’s huge phallus. Paul clawed helplessly at the towels beneath him. Paul took advantage of the moment as Daryl shifted and in the next few seconds, the actor was straddling Daryl, their mouths connected once more. Paul got hold of the lubricant, but Daryl playfully wrested it away and shook his head; he had more presents to give. Popping the cap open and dispensing it liberally on his dick and in his hand, Daryl prepared himself and his true love. His slick middle finger worked a whimper out of Paul as he pressed it inside and beyond the sphincter. When he found it, the spot, he thought Paul was going to come outright, and Daryl would have been fine with that. Paul nuzzled his face into Daryl’s neck; he latched his teeth onto Daryl’s skin and locked his lips down to suck the love mark in. Daryl’s abs contracted involuntarily at the thrill of sensation, and he exhaled sharply. He could tell Paul was ready and he added the second finger. Paul moaned but never stopped leaving the love bite. Slowly, he started to move his hips, working himself up and down on Daryl’s fingers. Daryl turned his face back in to get Paul’s attention and kiss him delicately, foreheads resting together as he added another finger.

“I have to have you in me,” Paul panted. Sweat rolled down his face and chest. “God, Daryl, _please_ fuck me now!”

Daryl drew Paul up close, let his partner line them up, and eased Paul down on his aching cock. Paul was incredibly tight, and Daryl slowed his man’s descent, not wanting to hurt Paul. When he was about half way in, Daryl stroked Paul’s face and got a smile and then a burning kiss as Paul pulled him in further, his hands locked on Daryl’s ass.

“God _damn_ you are huge!” Paul groaned. “Give it to me, Superman. Give it—need it!”

Daryl began to pump up into Paul, slow-stroking at first until he felt Paul move his hands up to Daryl’s face. Daryl kissed him and began to lengthen his strokes. Paul was still tight, but he was loving the fucking Daryl dished out. Daryl withdrew and turned Paul facedown before easing back inside and pounding him deep. Paul twisted and left his legs to one side so Daryl could continue thrusting and pulling almost all the way out. 

Daryl shifted them again, putting Paul back on his back and letting his man lock his legs around Daryl’s waist. Paul loved this. Daryl’s hair clung to his face and neck, drops of sweat falling to join the droplets already present on Paul’s skin. Daryl held down Paul’s hands, finger intertwined. Misty-blue irises met storm-blue orbs.

 ** _“Come for me, baby!”_** The ride dove out from under them.

Paul’s cries overlapped Daryl’s own as his cock jumped, a dozen arcs of warm ejaculate arcing across his chin, neck, chest, and stomach and coinciding with the pulsing of Daryl’s huge cock deep inside him.

Daryl pulled Paul up into his arms like a rag doll. Paul summoned his strength, held tight to his love, and whispered, “You already made my wish come true.”

Daryl eased Paul’s hair behind an ear. “Happy Birthday, Sunshine,” said Daryl, his voice quavering as they came down for the ecstatic reactions. After a few moments, Daryl eased himself from his beautiful actor and led Paul to the bathroom so they could both piss and take a quick shower. The shower turned into Daryl getting fucked on the marble countertop, both of them able to watch Paul’s cock piston in and out thanks to the massive wall mirror. Daryl came on the mirror when Paul release inside of him. They resumed the shower and prayed no one cursed them for using up all the hot water. 

The couple alternated sleeping and fucking until nearly noon, at which time they went down for lunch. Only six couples had stayed, but Daryl confirmed that they had all checked out already. Paul and Daryl enjoyed an over-priced, but very tasty, lunch before taking a golf cart shuttle to get on five different zip lines through the picturesque winter landscape. About 2:30 in the afternoon, they made their way hand-in-hand along the nature trails to the greenhouse. Daryl took a couple of dozen pictures of Paul with magnificent exotic butterflies that came to light upon him. Paul caught a picture of Daryl smiling with a dazzling blue butterfly resting happily on the end of his nose.

Back at the lodge that evening, they ate wonderful medium-rare ribeye steaks in the suite and snuggled up together to watch their favorite holiday movies. Daryl pronounced it Christmas time only once he’d seen Hans Gruber fall from Nakatomi Tower at the end of _Die Hard_. For Paul, Christmas required Charly Baltimore and Mitch Hennessy taking out corrupt government agents in _The Long Kiss Goodnight_. 

House-keeping brought them more towels, and Paul and Daryl thoroughly enjoyed the intimate pleasures of each other. Daryl cried out just before coming hard beneath himself with Paul fucking him from behind. Just before sunrise the following day, Daryl woke up to Paul straddling his thighs. He placed the hottest tongue kisses between the mechanic’s shoulder blades before rolling Daryl over and riding him hard and bringing them both off. Daryl laughed heartily when Paul brought them back down, quoting, “Yippee-Ki-Yay! Motherfucker!”

They checked out on Sunday morning and drove back home. Paul sorted laundry and started the wash; he set aside the dry clean items to take into town the next day. Daryl made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with tomato basil soup for dinner. Lucky and her puppies—now officially named Attila, Ragnar, and Ivan—had enjoyed their time at Dr Greene’s Clinic, getting a clean bill of health. They were starting to open their eyes a bit and becoming a bit more mobile. Lucky was protective but easy-going with the techs.

The next evening, Daryl and Merle closed the shop early. Paul and Carol met them at The Reflex for the shop’s holiday party. It was a great deal of fun, especially seeing Merle hand out the White Elephant gifts while wearing blinking reindeer antlers. Axel ended up getting a bizarre win in the combination coffee pot brewer and body wash dispenser that fit around the neck of a shower head. Merle ended up with a giant, plastic, Christmas flamingo that lit up with strobing lights and yelled out quotes from holiday movies. No one dared to try and take away Daryl’s aquamarine electric throw blanket with the mermaid tail pouch for the feet, although Paul looked at it mighty seriously before he switched out the microwavable popcorn kettle with Martinez for a cookbook that included tons of swearing in the instructions. Daryl announced that three new mechanics would be starting under the apprentice program, Patrick was being promoted to master mechanic, Nabila and Martinez were promoted to Associate Management, and T-Dog would be the new General Manager. Patrick even brought a guest; he and Benjamin looked so adorable, holding hands and sneaking a kiss now and then. Merle closed out the evening with a karaoke sing-along of “Grandma Got Run-Over by a Reindeer.”

Daryl made sure everyone was able to get home safely, evening paying for a ride for several of his employees and their significant others. At the end of the night, he and Paul shared a last drink with Abraham and Rosita before heading home. This would be the first year that neither he nor Merle would be covering the shop on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. T-Dog assured them both that the staff had everything covered, and that the owners could finally enjoy more of the fruits of their labor and some well-deserved vacation time.

The next morning, Daryl woke to the sounds of Christmas music and the smell of bacon and coffee coming from the kitchen. The big man stretched and rolled out of bed. The tree was on in the living room, and Darlene Love’s “Baby, Please Come Home” was in full effect on the holiday music station on the television. Daryl stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, that goddamned unstoppable smile bearing itself on his face once more at the sight before him. Paul was pouring batter into the waffle iron and closing it down; he was wearing nothing but a deep purple Santa hat with cheetah print around the cuffed brim and a red apron that read: “Definitely Naughty!”

Still naked himself, Daryl moved up behind Paul and got a smile from over his perfect man’s shoulder, hair shiny and straight. Daryl reached up with his left hand and swept it aside, getting a giggle from Paul before he planted tiny kisses along the top of Paul’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” Paul moaned. “You like my new outfit?”

“You better watch out, ‘cause Santa’s about to come to town!” Daryl growled as he untied the apron strings and slipped his hands around Paul’s hips to find his lover’s cock growing thicker. His own cock came to life again the warmth of Paul’s luscious ass.

Daryl turned Paul around, took the hat from his beautiful actor’s head and put it on his own, then went down below the apron. Daryl laughed when Paul yanked the waffle iron plug from the wall socket as the couple went to the floor and sucked each other off greedily. The shepherd barked a couple of times and whimpered a little after, not quite sure what was happening until Daryl snapped his fingers at her, and she finally decided to go back and check her pups. The last waffle might have been a bit on the crunchy side, but Paul had four more already waiting on low in the oven.

After breakfast, the boys showered and got dressed. Daryl drove them all the way to their first stop at the children’s hospital. By 10:00 AM, they met with several actors who also happened to be shooting in the Atlanta area and even on a couple of Marvel films. Daryl helped out as Paul and the others went through the cancer and chronic illness wards with presents for the kids, taking photos and selfies, reading stories, visiting with their families, and spending time to make them happy. 

The second stop was at 1:30, right off Cheshire Bridge Road to the Lost ‘N Found Organization to help homeless, runaway, and abandoned LGBTQ+ youth. The couple met with two of the members of the board and several volunteers; they talked for a while about opportunities to help the group’s marketing and visibility efforts. Daryl and Paul also presented a check on behalf of several businesses; Daryl noted that Paul matched everyone else’s donations. As at the hospital, Paul made it a point to visit some of the youth who were present and to talk to them and learn about their respective stories. Daryl watched as the kids’ faces lit up. Several of them knew him more as “Jesus” from Heisenberg Theory, but the majority immediately recognized “Merlin.” 

“That could have been us,” Paul said quietly, holding Daryl’s hand as they drove down Highway 74 back to Senoia.

Paul felt his hand rise and turned to face the man of his dreams as Daryl kissed his knuckles. “That was us. An orphanage and my shitty household? Those weren’t real homes. We was outcast, just not thrown out.”

“I want to help,” Paul declared. “I want to foster kids—kids who are like we were. Maybe adopt them, if they like us.”

Daryl looked over and that fucking smile broke on his face. “They’re gonna _love_ us.”

“Older kids have a harder time getting adopted,” stated Paul. “Plus, by then they usually know if they feel different.”

Daryl nodded. “So, all this means we gotta get busy on this house. I need to talk to Merle about expanding the shop. Maybe open a couple of stores in Griffin and Newnan.” He tried to be nonchalant as he added the next few words. “And, I gotta make sure my proposal game is right. Ain’t doin’ it on no holidays or birthdays.” Daryl looked over at Paul as he brought the truck to a stop at a traffic light. “But I’m gonna make you my husband.”

“And I’m gonna make you mine,” promised Paul, taking off his seatbelt and leaning over to kiss Daryl. When the light changed, Daryl eased the truck forward and headed on home, the both of them grinning back and forth like idiots in love. Daryl glanced back at the road just as the racing Mustang ran the stop sign at the end of the side street.

Time slowed, and Daryl screamed as Paul flew from the side door, his seatbelt still hanging where he had removed it to kiss Daryl moments before. Daryl’s head hit the side window and everything went dark. The next thing he knew, he had ringing in his ears and thinking how fucking awesome Paul would look in a tuxedo and how fun it would be to get it off him after the reception. An ambulance was rushing away and another had arrived. The redneck came to his senses as one of the EMTs—one Daryl didn’t know—came over to check on him.

“Sir? I’m with Emergency Services. Can you hear me okay?”

Deputy Lam Kendal arrived first on the scene; maybe he’d been chasing the sports car. Daryl reached for his own seatbelt and unbuckled it. Steam rolled out from under the hood of the truck, the windshield was a crackled mess, and Daryl could tell frame had sustained catastrophic damage. When he looked up, the Mustang was in the middle of the road, its front crumpled and a front left tire lying at the median after having been sheared off the axel. Shane and another officer Daryl didn’t know were routing traffic around them slowly while two medical techs were trying to check on him.

Paul was—Oh _god_! 

“Where’s Paul?” Daryl struggled to get up. Paul’s phone was in the floorboard. He grabbed it.

“They just took him in to the ER, Daryl,” Lam answered. “He’s in good hands and better shape than the other driver.”

“Mr Dixon, does anything hurt? Let me see your eyes.” The little blonde lady shone a pen light at Daryl. He gave her all of five seconds to look. 

“I’m good,” the mechanic insisted, waving her away. “Just a little shook up. Bumped my head. Take me to Paul.”

“C’mon, let her do her job,” Lam instructed, acquiescing for Daryl to hop out of the wreck. “You’re both lucky as fuck, Daryl.” The man’s voice faded out of Daryl’s mind. He couldn’t pay attention at the moment.

“Shane!” Daryl yelled. Shane stopped a vehicle and stepped over. Daryl looked between the two officers; the glare on his face brooked no argument as his voice dropped to a growl. “I don’t give a fuck which one of you does it, but one of you is taking me to Paul at the ER right-the-fuck _now_.”

Twenty-four minutes later, Paul looked up from the cold, wet, mud now caked on his jeans, shirt, and jacket; there was a small cut on his left leg. He was still missing one of his old ankle boots—a pair of lace-up boots he’d turned down the tops of until they had remained that way, slip-on and super-comfy—back in the deep mud bank beside the road. He had been seriously considering replacing the pair, eventually; now he didn’t have to make up his mind as to when. Suddenly, he could hear the commotion coming from all the way out at the entrance, his name repeated over and over again in relentless, beckoning call.

“Where is he?!!” the frantic redneck cried as he rushed past the Admissions Desk and burst through the heavy double-doors of the Emergency Room at King County Memorial Hospital. The duty nurses and orderlies stared in shock, jaws dropping and eyes wide as saucers, watching as the man’s powerful arms and shoulders popped not one, but both, of the heavy, reinforced, blond wood security doors completely off the mag-lock plate at the top of the portal, the stenciled lettering denoting ‘No Unauthorized Entry’ going non-existent in the man’s perception at the moment. “Paul??? **PAUL**?!!”

“Hold on, now!” came another voice, clearly attempting to soothe and trying to calm before trying to restrain. There was the brief sound of scuffling.

“LEMME GO!” came the rough voice, raspy from worry and stress. “Goddamn it, Paul, where—?”

Paul hopped up and drew aside the light-beige privacy curtain to see the wide-shouldered man behind the ruckus. He held up a hand and waved shyly at his hard-bodied hunter. “Hey, Superman.”

Daryl came up short, Deputy Kendal right on his heels. Daryl took in his beautiful actor, looking for wounds and injuries; he saw the spot of blood at the torn place on Paul’s left pants-leg, but his beautiful man looked okay, alive and well. In an instant, Daryl reached out, took Paul’s face in his hands, and kissed him as though he’d never get the chance again. The whimper in Daryl’s throat nearly broke Paul’s heart. When they broke apart, Paul smiled softly, his eyes shining and perfect. Instantly, Daryl’s face scrunched up, and he all but collapsed to his knees, embracing Paul’s waist and burying his face in Paul’s right hip, mud and clay be damned. His cap, pushed back by the hug, fell to the floor by Daryl’s knees. Paul reached down and stroked his beautiful partner’s head.

The officer behind him waved away the hospital security personnel who’d apparently been summoned. They nodded and backed off, remaining off to one side of the hallway.

“Holy god, I—,” Daryl choked on the rest of his words. When he finally stopped shaking, and the pressure that felt like a deer on all four hooves standing on his sternum eventually eased from his chest, he spoke again in a small, voice. “You’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” Paul whispered, turning Daryl’s face up to meet his eyes. “Baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. It was just an accident. I’m so sorry.” Daryl closed his eyes and soaked in the touch of Paul’s hands on his face before his nuzzled his face against Paul’s stomach. They stayed that way for another minute or so, with Daryl feeling Paul’s reassuring touch in his hair and on his neck.

“It’s okay. I’m still here,” cooed Paul. “How’s your head? They said you got knocked out.”

Daryl shook his head. “Just a little bump. Got shook up. I’m okay, honest. I swear.”

Paul found said bump and gave it a gentle kiss.

“Wait,” Daryl said, standing back up and letting the glorious man before him wipe the tears from his cheeks. “You flew outta the truck, and you ain’t hurt _none_? Shouldn’t you be laying down or sump’n? What if you got a concussion or internal bleedin’ or—“

“I _promise_ you, I’m okay,” said Paul. “I got a little scratch on one leg, and I’m gonna probably be sore, but overall, no damage here. I’m sorry about your truck… What about the other guy?”

“Must’ve run off in the confusion,” said the deputy. “Even if he can run, he’s probably still hurt. At least got a burn or broken nose from the air bag.”

Paul lifted Daryl’s face to lock eyes. “I’m okay, Superman.”

Daryl started to look at Paul’s leg but turned when he felt Lam’s hand pat him gently on his shoulder. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, Daryl,” said Lam. “I saw the whole thing, and let me just say: You two better go to church this Sunday, because I ain’t _never_ seen nothing like that in my entire life, much less my nineteen years with the department.”

Daryl blinked and looked back. Lam nodded again, then suggested, “Here.” He picked up Daryl’s cap from the floor and handed to the mechanic. “Let’s come back in here, and y’all have a seat while we wait on the doc to check out Paul and get him released.” The three of them shuffled into the emergency exam room.

Paul got back on the hospital bed and pulled Daryl down to lie on the small bed beside him. Daryl felt a wave of fatigue start to crash over him, the result of his heightened stress and anxiety over Paul’s condition, and in all likelihood, his own, though he’d die before ever admitting it to any but perhaps Carol or Paul.

“You know what, Lam?” Daryl considered aloud. “It might be a fucking prudent idea to let somebody know that their loved one is actually okay when you tell ‘em he’s gone off to the hospital in a fuckin’ _ambulance_.”

Lam shook his head then tipped his hat back further on his head. “I hear you, man,” Lam nodded, placating the upset redneck. “But you and I both know the lawyers would be all over us if we did and then it turned out that we were wrong, and the person was really hurt bad or worse. I don’t need Andrea Holton-Blake chewin’ my ass up in front of Judge Eastman and Sheriff Grimes, thank you. As it is, I’m real glad I didn’t have to tell you bad news.”

Daryl nodded and lay his head down on the pitiful excuse for a pillow his handsome man was trying to share with him. “Thanks, Lam. I didn’t mean to be an asshole ‘bout it.”

“Hey, I get it, Daryl,” Lam said. “We’re cool, man.” 

Another familiar pair of voices carried through the ward. There was a knock on the wall at the edge of the curtain, and Sheriff Grimes and Deputy Chambler entered to greet the exam room occupants. After greetings all around, Dr Subramanian showed up to examine Paul. The officers stepped out. Daryl had planned to remain until Rick caught his eye and jerked his head slightly to tell Daryl to come outside with them. 

Daryl kissed Paul’s cheek. “Lemme go see what Rick wants. Probably bad news about my truck.”

“Daryl, I’m so sorry,” Paul said. “You know I’ll get you a new truck.”

“It better be a nice one too,” Daryl said, showing his returning humor.

“It will,” Paul said, huffing a small laugh as he shucked off the jeans and his one remaining shoe. A nurse gave him a heated blanket, a hospital robe, and a pair of pastel blue KCMH socks with the special grip bottoms. “Ooh, traction is sexy! Well— _this_ kind at least—not the whole cast and immobilization gig.”

Daryl smirked and stepped out beyond the curtain. Rick and company had waited on him. Once he stepped up, Rick nodded for Lam to tell them all what had transpired.

“So, I had just begun to patrol down Whisper Creek Road.” Daryl’s house stood at the end of that road, and Lam’s route was due to the patrol schedule Rick had ordered, passing Daryl’s residence once every hour. Lam continued, “Just after I got onto the road good, I spotted a late-model, dark-blue Mustang heading up the road opposite me. It was halfway up the road, but it could’ve been all the way back to the end before I turned on the street. I made a hard U-turn and hit my lights. That’s when it took off. I him pursued north on Stallings. The Mustang had a lead, but I had more top speed. I was in the middle of talking to dispatch when he got to Keg Creek. He came up on a truck—Daryl’s truck—and shot out at it. I don’t think he planned it out completely; I think he was trying to cause them to be scared and stop, blocking my pursuit. Instead, he panicked, hit it, and spun out. The vehicle struck the truck’s front quarter, pushing the truck into the median. When I stopped, I saw it was Daryl’s truck. I ran to check on Mr Rovia because he’d been thrown from the vehicle by the impact, and when I headed to check Daryl, the driver of the Mustang was gone. Must’ve been doing over ninety. If he’s still out there, he’s definitely hurt.”

Daryl, Rick, and Tara stood frozen as they took in each and every word. Deputy Kendal was not known to exaggerate. 

“Rick, he flew out of the passenger’s side door out beyond the embankment shoulder and the culvert,” said Lam. “I got it on the cruiser video and my body-cam. I stopped, called in rescue, and got down to him as fast as I could only to find he’d somehow twisted in mid-air and landed nearly fifty feet away along the edge of the run-off creek in a mud bank. He’d sunk in all the way to his waist and bent forward to get it all over his front side. Dude was even laughing all nervous-like about it until he got himself out, and he realized Daryl was unconscious. If he’d been a big man, or in poor shape,” Lam surmised, patting his own gut, “I doubt he’d be around to tell what happened.” Lam turned to Daryl. “He wasn’t gonna go, but I insisted that he come to the hospital and get checked out. Wouldn’t let ‘em take him until the second ambulance showed up for Daryl. Wanted to ride with you too. I checked you and told him you were fine and just babblin’ about weddings and to get his narrow, muddy ass on the gurney before I handcuffed him to it.”

Daryl scoffed. “Good luck with that.” Rick shrugged, remembering how Paul had entertained them all with his escape artistry at a cookout back in early October. 

Rick’s phone rang and he stepped aside. “This is Grimes, go ahead.”

Tara hugged Daryl and looked at his head bump again. It wasn’t bleeding, just bruised and a little swollen.

“I knew that hard head would come in handy,” Tara said, pulling Daryl’s head down to kiss the uninjured side.

Rick turned back and asked, “Daryl, have you or Paul had any weird calls? Hang-ups?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Some at the shop, and Paul had sixty-three one day. All of them were unknown number, and it was like the caller just stayed on the line and never spoke. He thought it might have been because of the nominations he got, and we figured maybe somebody had bad cell connection issues or a fucked up SIM card.”

Rick went back to his call, passing along his brother’s information. Daryl stepped back and peeked in on Paul. His beautiful actor was washing mud from his face, neck, hands, and even his hair. Daryl let the curtain fall and stepped back over to the officers.

Rick hung up and turned back. He kept his voice low. “That was the FBI. Shane ran the plates, and there was an instant hit on the BOLO list. The vehicle belongs to a Wesley Alverson. He and his boyfriend, Alex Bennings, were found murdered in their apartment in Malibu last Wednesday. The FBI investigators believe it was a guy by the name of Crighton Dallas Wilton. They think he’s obsessed with Paul. Apparently, he was banned from all fan activity after trying to enter a _Heisenberg_ convention with a real gun and a wedding ring; he kept saying he was engaged to Paul and gonna go to heaven together. They think he killed Paul’s ex and his boyfriend because of some photos they tried to sell off recently to some tabloids for cash; evidently, they’d done that before. They’re gonna want to talk to you two.”

Daryl and Tara stood stunned. “That Alex guy,” Daryl confirmed. “He was Paul’s ex a while back. This Wilton guy…”

“We’re gonna find this fucker,” Rick said. “And you two are alive and well and gonna stay that way.” Rick turned to Tara and Lam. “I want a car outside Daryl’s house, Merle’s place, their shop, and Greene Farm until further notice. Call the studio and update the head of security. Get a manhunt organized and meet with the FBI agents when they arrive tonight. I’ll see you both after my family time. Tell Denise I’m sorry.“

“Lam and I are all over it. No worries.” Tara gave Daryl a fist-bump. “We got this.” 

“Tell ‘em not to mind my delivery guys,” Daryl said. “Got a late present bein’ installed behind the house while were gone out tomorrow.” 

Tara nodded, and the two officers strode out of the ER to carry out Rick’s orders.

The sheriff looked his brother dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Daryl, I—“ 

“You sorry because you ain’t got superpowers?” Daryl countered. “You mean to tell me you can’t read minds and see the future? C’mon, brother. Ain’t your fault some twisted fuck’s got his wires crossed, Rick, and we sure as hell can’t wrap Paul up in bubble wrap, much as I might like it. If he feels up to it, we’ll see y’all tonight. Love you.” Rick hugged his brother for a few seconds before they stepped back in to check on Paul. Dr Subramanian was just finishing up. 

“I’m going to run some tests just make sure everything else is good, but you don’t appear to have anything other than the abrasions and the small cut,” said the doctor. “When’s the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“I had a physical last May before I started shooting, and I got boosters then,” Paul answered.

Dr Subramanian shrugged and nodded. “Well, that’s about as good as I could ask for. You’ll probably be sore over the next couple of days, so take it easy and get plenty of rest and sleep. They’re working you into Imaging now, so it shouldn’t be too long. Oh, and thank you again for the selfie. I’m a huge fan!”

“Only for those who take care of me in the ER, Dr Subramanian,” Paul said, smiling back and wiggling his toes in the hospital socks.

The physician waved, picked up the chart, and shook hands with both men before heading out. Daryl accepted Paul’s invitation to lie down next to him in the bed again. 

“You flew out,” Daryl said softly. “I couldn’t stop you.”

“I forgot the seatbelt,” Paul confessed, looking guilty. “I took it off at the light, when I kissed you.” Daryl didn’t try to stress over it or cause his beloved any more stress. It was in the past, and Paul was alive and well; they both were. The men locked eyes.

 ** _“Don’t worry.”_** The sound of Daryl voice mixing with his own flooded Paul’s soul, and the ride whirled the couple up to weightlessness. They came up for air at the gasp of the two nurses—one male and one female—who had come in to take Paul for an MRI. Daryl hopped off the bed.

The male nurse just gave them a knowing smile and moved toward the head of the bed, preparing to push Paul to through the hallways to the Imaging Center. “I’d prefer to walk.”

“You don’t want the doctor to get mad with us do you?” the female nurse all but cooed. Paul was immune to her simper.

“How about I follow you with a wheelchair just in case?” the male nurse suggested.

“That I can do,” Paul agreed, getting up and looking around. “Hey, Superman? Would you see if you can find my jacket? It’s in a plastic bag the EMTs gave me, and I think my phone may still be in it. If it is, would you get it and keep it for me? I don’t want someone getting hold of it, even if it’s dead.”

Daryl nodded, kissed his divine partner once more. “Here.” Daryl put his cap and Wayfarer shades on his boyfriend. Paul groaned. “The bastards were gathering in the parking lot when I got here. Just in case.” Paul kissed Daryl and assured he’d be right back. Daryl sighed heavily as he watched Paul head off along the corridor with the nurses. He turned and looked around the room, finding the plastic bag tucked in an open shelf under the sink along the wall. Paul’s jacket, wallet, and phone were inside. The glass screen was cracked on a corner, but the phone still worked. Daryl slipped the device into the inside pocket of his workman’s coat. A thought occurred to him, and Daryl pulled out his own phone and dialed Shane. 

“Yo, bubba,” came Shane’s voice. “Our favorite ninja-master-come-zombie-killing-magician still okay?”

“Yeah, man,” Daryl answered. “I don’t know how, but he’s alive and well. Walked away with a little scratch.”

“Can’t say the same for your truck, man,” Shane mused. “Langdon is here now, pulling it up on his flatbed to haul in to evidence.”

“Can you grab my keys out of the wreck and release them to me?” asked Daryl. “Shouldn’t be no reason to keep anything other than the truck key, not that it’ll be of any use if it’s as bad as y’all say.”

“We’re ahead of ya, man. Langdon pulled ‘em off the keyring,” Shane said. “I got ‘em in my pocket. I can bring ‘em by tonight along with the report for your insurance. You be sure and give Paul a kiss from me and Lori, and tell him we’ll see y’all tonight at Rick’s if y’all are both up for it. Sorry to say, but the green machine is totally fucky-ducky. Now, go step outta that hospital and walk across the road to the park so you can have yourself a smoke. When you see these pictures I’m fixin’ to email you, you gonna need one.”

“Thanks, man,” Daryl said into the phone.

Daryl and Shane ended their conversation, and the mechanic did walk across the road for a smoke, checking out the heavy damage to his vehicle. The cab was all but crushed, with the cargo bed bent up irreparably. Most of the air bags had deployed and the windshield, windows, and rear glass were shattered. Daryl exhaled smoke and flicked ash to the ground.

_Paul._

An hour and a half later, Paul was given a clean bill of health and allowed to walk out with Daryl on his own power. They snuck out the entrance nearest the heli-pad and caught a ride home from Denise. Afterward, they called Paul’s family members to assure them they were both okay, drank a stiff drink, and lay down on the sofa with Lucky and Shadow.

“Rick said the guy who hit us was the really creepy guy from the banned list at the conventions and the studio.”

Paul looked up, and they both sat up. Lucky picked up Shadow by the scruff and hopped down to the rug. “Oh my god! You mean—you mean it was that _Wilton_ guy? And he’s out there running around?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. They believe it was him that made the calls to your old place and to the shop, and it was him who snooped around the house.” 

Paul gave a nod to convey his understanding. “And there’s more,“ added Daryl. “And it’s bad.” 

“Tell me,” Paul insisted.

“Last Wednesday, this guy killed Alex and Wes at their place in LA,” Daryl said.

Paul’s brows furrowed and his mouth opened in shock. “Holy fuck.“

“FBI thinks he did it ‘cause he found out they hurt you before and tried to make money off hurtin’ you again.”

“I’ve seen a picture of him, but I never met the guy,” Paul explained. “They banned him from the conventions because he had a weapon and started talking out of his head about going to heaven with me as his savior. He sent me fan mail, but I never answered it. Whenever Dante would suspect the guy of trying to ‘catfish’ on my social media, he’d trace it. It if was him, he’d remove him.”

Daryl pulled Paul into his arms. “Were you close to Alex’s family?”

Paul shook his head. “No. He probably wasn’t gonna take the chance that they’d blow his lie apart, especially if they knew about Wes. Did they say how he did it? Did they suffer?”

Daryl shrugged and answered, “I don’t know, but you can’t beat yourself up worryin’ about all that. It don’t change nothin’. Rick, Tara, and Lam are on this with the FBI. Our place has all the new security and surveillance, and I got you to keep me safe from crazy killers and mad boar.”

Paul looked up and smiled. Daryl kissed his beautiful man, then whispered. “Come shower with me.” 

Daryl led Paul to the bathroom. They showered together, and after, Daryl changed Paul’s bandage. Once they were dressed up, they called a Lyft to go over to Rick’s.

The older children oversaw the entertainment of the younger ones. Holidays stop-motion cartoon were singing about Heat Miser who was trying to keep Christmas from happening. A dozen pizzas, a hundred hot wings in varying degrees of heat and flavors, a veggie and cheese tray, and several batches of cookies, brownies, and peppermint bark rounded out the celebration made even sweeter thanks to Paul and Daryl being alive and well. Rick wanted them to stay the night, but they explained that they needed some time alone together to decompress.

With that in mind, Paul took Daryl into the back bedroom to make out together and relax away from the hustle and bustle of the holiday celebration for a while. Carol made sure that no one disturbed the pair for a while as they just lay quietly together in the dark. A video call from Connor and Dianna wishing them Merry Christmas brought them back into the party to have everyone chime in on the conversation. 

Around 11:00 PM, the party was winding down. Merle had gotten his tools from the truck and was ready to put together Judith’s tricycle, but the little girl was adamantly refusing to go to bed, having eaten two of the sugar cookies left out for Santa. 

“I want to stay up to meet Santa!” Judith protested. “Can you put out the fire logs so he can get in and not get burned?”

“I don’t think Santa has to worry about fire,” Paul answered. “But he see you when you’re sleeping, and that’s when he knows to come in quietly. Why don’t we go get your pajamas on, and then we can get Santa another cookie or two?” 

“Okay,” Judith agreed. “But I’m not sleepy.”

Paul helped her get changed and choose new cookies, ones with piped icing and color sugar sprinkles. Much to Paul’s amusement, Judith was swift to point out that those were also the ones she’d like to try next.

Daryl sidled up to Merle, Rick, Shane, and Morgan and whispered. Rick handed Daryl his keys.

Back in the living room, Judith rearranged the cookies on the plate several times to ensure the proper culinary aesthetic. She also took the opportunity to lean her cheek down toward the edge of the hearth in a vain attempt to glance up the flue.

From outside came the thunderous report of a shotgun. “I don’t give a damn who you are!” came Daryl’s voice. “You ain’t parking them reindeer on my roof!”

Carl, Sophia, Duane, and Enid all gasped, wide-eyed and laying it on thick. Judith squealed with panic as she tore out of the room and jumped up into her bed, Michonne and Lori right on her heels to tuck her in. 

Daryl came back inside through the garage and handed Rick the keys to his county vehicle. “Did she go?”

“Shit,” Shane drawled. “You’d have thought you shot her outta that shotgun and right under the covers.”

“She ran outta here like her little ass was on fire,” Merle chuckled. “Did anybody get that on video?”

“I did!” said Carol.

Michonne stepped back in. “She wants to say goodnight to Uncle Darry and Uncle Jesus.”

Paul and Daryl stepped back to Judith’s room. Judith was lying on her side and Lori was behind her, rubbing her daughter’s back.

“Nighty-night,” Judith whispered. “I love you!”

“We love you too,” Paul whispered, kissing her forehead. “Night.”

“Get to sleep so Santa can come in,” Daryl ordered.

“He’s here?” 

“He’s waiting on you to go to sleep,” Daryl said. “But if you don’t, he’ll have to leave and go to the next house. So close your eyes and get some sleep so you can see what he brought you early in the morning. Love you.” Daryl kissed the little girl’s cheek tenderly.

“Okay. Love you, Uncle Darry.” The little girl was very drowsy.

“Night y’all. Glad you two are okay,” Lori whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

Daryl nodded back, and Paul waved as they left. 

“How is she?” asked Carol.

“You couldn’t prop her eyes open with toothpicks,” answered Daryl.

“How’re you two?”

“We’re two of the luckiest, happiest men alive,” Paul said, kissing Daryl’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”

“Come here,” Carol said, taking the two men in for a group hug. “Go home and get some rest. It’s gonna hit you later on, but that’s okay. My Pookie and my Snookums need to take a little break. People sometimes need a holiday from the holidays.”

“We will,” Daryl said. “We’re going to Greene Farm tomorrow and then to Coast Rica in a few days.”

By the time they made it home, Paul and Daryl were beyond exhausted. They spent some time with the dogs and Shadow, laughing at the kitten playing with the puff-ball tackle on a stick and string. Lucky had a new chew toy and brush, and Paul brushed her down and gave her good scratches.

Daryl led him to the bedroom where they undressed each other. Paul got them both three pain reliever pills each and they took them and stretched out well. Then, they got into bed and fell fast asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. 

Daryl woke to Paul’s kisses on his chest. “Merry Christmas, Superman.”

“Merry Christmas, Sunshine.”

“Come see what Santa brought you,” Paul said.

“Is it coffee?” Daryl chortled.

“It’s making,” Paul confirmed. 

The perfect teeth and knowing smile, the shining, misty blue eyes—Daryl’s heart sped up.

“Come with me,” Paul coaxed.

Daryl raised his eyebrows.

Paul huffed a laugh and nodded slyly. “We’re gonna do that too.”

Daryl sighed and got up out of bed to follow Paul into the living room. There were more presents under the tree than there had been the night before. Two warm robes, one deep blue, the other dark red, were waiting for them. Daryl slipped on the blue one and Paul put on the red since it was clear they’d be taking pictures that would most likely be shared. Paul turned back to see Daryl biting his thumbnail.

“Here,” Paul said, handing over a large, rectangular box. “Try this one first.”

Daryl sat on the floor across from Paul and looked suspiciously at his lover as he unwrapped the Stryker StrykeZone 380 crossbow. Daryl found himself at a loss for words.

“Do you like it?” Paul asked, suddenly unsure. “If you want another kind, I can re—“ The kiss was perfect. 

“I love it,” Daryl said, their foreheads together. “But not near as much as I love you.”

They both opened several boxes each of nice, fashionable clothing: sweaters, jeans, pants, shirts, vests. Paul opened a necklace Daryl had made just for him with a polished shell Daryl had found when they were at Venice Beach. Daryl died laughing as he opened a box with a kit full of sex toys while Paul opened an entire case of their favorite lubricant. 

Daryl got a text from Coach telling him to check the mailbox. Inside, they found matching Fibits from “Santa.” Paul set them to charge immediately.

Skipping breakfast, the boys headed over to Tanger Outlet where the stores were already open. Paul found himself another pair of ankle books similar to those he’d lost, a new denim jacket, and a new pair of dark, slim-fitting jeans that showcased his fantastic ass and his magnificent package. Their next stop took less than an hour wherein Daryl and Paul left the dealership in Newnan with a shiny, brand new, black Ford F-250 Limited Edition truck. Paul paid sticker price for the vehicle at over $84,000, and he had the salesman wrap it in a huge, red ribbon, tie a giant bow on the hood, and drive it around to stop in front of his future husband. Daryl, who’d been completely surprised once again and beyond count that morning, immediately swept the actor into a kiss that nearly made the astounded salesman’s toupee fly off.

At lunchtime, Greene Farm bustled with activity. Dr and Mrs Greene fawned over the pair almost as much as they did over Hershel, Jr. The huge standing rib roast, ham, and a goose with all the trimmings more than fed a grateful family. The family stopped by the church that afternoon for a drop-in service of music and fellowship. Father Gabriel welcomed Daryl and Paul warmly. It was one of the few times Daryl and Paul had ever truly felt wanted or welcomed by a religious group, although neither of them were what they would refer to as deeply believing. Gabriel seemed to understand this and never tried to pressure them; they appreciated that very much, but after all they’d been through of late, stopping by couldn’t hurt.

The couple trekked out to Coach’s place to give him a pair of tickets to the upcoming Super Bowl at the new Mercedes-Benz Stadium. The man was as delighted to see them as the bouncy Rottweiler. After hearing about the incident with the maniac, he offered to come stay a while with Georgia and his bat. The duo declined his offer politely; creating an incident wherein Coach happened to bash in some guy’s head might not go over well with the King County School Board, even though the guy in question may be a murderous lunatic.

On the way home, Daryl got a call from Special Agents Winslow and Farron of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They wanted to meet with the two of them at 9:30 the following morning at Daryl’s house. Daryl and Paul agreed, hoping this would help bring the chaotic unpleasantness to a close.

A 2017 black Dodge Charger with gray highlighting and the King County Sheriff Dept logo on the sides sat at the end of the street beyond Daryl’s house. Daryl brewed up a carafe of coffee and poured it into a thermos to take out to the officer along with a turkey sandwich, a new bag of sour cream and cheddar flavor potato chips, and a couple of Carol’s Christmas cookies. The man was extremely grateful.

Coming back in, Daryl checked on the dogs while Paul changed out the kitty litter. He took a look on to the patio to see if everything was set up, smiled to himself, then raced get everything just right.

Paul walked into a darkened kitchen and found blinking reindeer antlers on the table. Smiling to himself, he picked them up and heard the pop of a champagne cork coming from the back patio along with “Jingle Bell Rock” playing on the portable speaker at the back patio. Stepping out back, Paul saw light in shifting colors, diffused by churning water. Billowing steam came from the brand new hot tub in which his gorgeous redneck leaned out over the back corner, wearing nothing but the Santa hat with the cheetah print and pouring two flutes to spill over slightly; the way the water bubbled and churned right at the top of Daryl’s glorious, muscular ass made Paul swallow and then smile brightly.

“I told ya I had sump’n else for ya,” Daryl drawled. He gave Paul a look over his shoulder and jerked his head to invite Paul in with him. “You comin’ in?.”

Paul eyed the sight before him as a playful smile broke across his face, then quickly shed his clothing, put on the headband with the blinking antlers, and climbed gracefully into the water to join his god-of-a-man. Daryl handed his perfect partner one of the champagne flutes as he pulled Paul up behind him in the water, moaning as he felt his handsome actor's hardening cock slide up and down between his ass cheeks. Paul’s free hand slid down along Daryl’s Atlas belt to find and take hold of his gorgeous redneck’s magnificent member while Daryl craned back to brush their lips together.

**_“Merry Christmas, baby.”_ **


	18. Cutback Inversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Daryl come face to face with a threat from the past, find solace in an excursion with new friends, and gain their footing on the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your continued support. I know it has taken a while longer to get this chapter out, and I'm sorry about that, but it is a big one! Thanks for your patience! As always, thank you to the readers and fans of this genre, fandom, and this story. I hope this makes for happy reading! Kudos and comments are welcome fuel! :)
> 
> XOXO

“We got him!” came Rick’s voice over the speakerphone. Both men breathed a sigh of relief in the early morning hours of their darkened bedroom. Daryl had roused his lover once he answered Rick’s call. Now he pulled Paul closer as his beautiful actor snuggled up and planted a tender, thankful kiss in the center of the mechanic’s chest before resting his cheek back down on Daryl’s right pectoral muscle.

“The FBI are coming in to question him further,” Rick continued. “Tara caught him trying to steal a car from one of the gas pumps at the QT on Highway 74 up by the Interstate. He’s was hurt: a dislocated shoulder, broken collar bone, and a couple of cracked ribs. Good thing, too. He wasn’t in any condition to try to run or put up a fight, and she didn’t have to shoot. They’re resetting it and taping him up here at the hospital right now so we can transfer him back to the station jail to wait on the FBI.”

“Thank god,” said Daryl, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Obviously, the agents won’t be coming out to talk to you two at your place in the morning,” Rick stated carefully.

Daryl could sense his brother’s hesitation. There was something more.

“They’d like for you both to come in to the station tomorrow at 8:00 AM, if y’all would,” the sheriff explained.

“What for?” Daryl groused. “They’ve already got their guy.”

Rick paused.

“Rick?” For a second, Daryl thought the call had dropped. Then, he heard Rick sigh.

After a moment more, the sheriff answered. “Wilton told the feds that he’d met Paul years ago,” Rick said.

“Wait! _What_?” Paul asked as he sat up and turned on the lamp on the side table, the look on his face clearly conveying his state of confusion.

Rick’s voice lowered before he asked his next question. “Paul, were you ever…I mean—did you ever work as a… a _dancer_?”

Paul took in a sharp breath. “Oh, my god!” he exclaimed, recognition flooding his thoughts. “It’s him.”

“Who?” Daryl asked. “Wilton?”

Paul shook his head slightly and licked his lips before looking Daryl in the eye. “You know how I told you I had a lot of crazy jobs when I was first starting out?”

Daryl nodded. Rick stayed silent on the line.

“One of the first ones that actually paid worth a damn was as an exotic dancer,” Paul continued. “I had some gymnastics training and my martial arts skills to draw on—plus I filled out the costume pretty well. I was worried as hell as to how I was gonna pay my bills, so I tried my best to stand out and be friendly, and all together, that made me get noticed as a dancer. It helped that the gay strip bar I worked in paid way better than any _Chippendale’s_ knock-off.”

“Anyway, there was this guy who’d come in a couple of times a week,” Paul recounted. “He called himself ‘Tex,’ and he became kind of a regular for me. If I was dancing, he got at least one lap dance. At first he was really nice and incredibly shy; he would barely speak whenever I thanked him. Every once in a while, he’d send me drinks, but I turned those down politely. You always hear stories about taking drinks from strangers, and in a strip joint I knew better. He’d even invite me out to get something to eat after the club closed for the night, but again, I just declined. After a couple of months, he started getting really _handsy_ whenever I danced for him and especially when he would tip me. I tried to be nice about it and not hurt his feelings, but it got to the point where I had to tell him I’d get in trouble if the management thought I was leading him to be so forward—which was true for the most part. Finally, I had to have a bouncer remind him to keep his hands to himself. I still hugged him whenever I’d see him come in and before he left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even concerned about losing his patronage, I was just trying to be nice, to be me.”

Paul looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the gathered comforter and sheet in his lap. He looked back up when Daryl sat up and pressed soft warm lips against his own. Paul had told Daryl about dancing when they had first become a couple, much to the mechanic’s complete amusement. He’d even given Daryl his own lap dance afterward to Joan Jett’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me” just to prove it and satisfy his hunter’s curiosity. There had been no judgment then and certainly none now.

“One night, Tex offered me the chance to make money _‘modeling’_ and making short films,” said Paul. “I wasn’t stupid; I knew what that meant, and I wasn’t actively looking to become a male prostitute or shoot porn—not that I have anything against anyone who chooses to do so; to each his own—but the money he was talking about was substantial, and I had to at least consider it. I hate to admit it now, but it wasn’t until I was in the parking lot of a sketchy old building in Sherman Oaks when it hit me that if I did it, if I actually went through with it, I’d never work in reputable film or television, and after all my family had done to help me achieve my dream, I’d be letting them down. I’d be letting _myself_ down. I knew I could always fall back and just go home if things got worse. So, I turned on my heel and left. I quit dancing the following week when I started working in a dojo during the evenings and a greenhouse during the graveyard shift so that I could go on more auditions and take more workshops during the day. As for Tex, I never saw him again, at least not that I knew of.” Paul shivered and looked at Daryl. “If I had gone in that building, I might not have ever come out, not alive.”

“Paul,” Rick said quietly. “All this information will stay as quiet as I can make it.”

“Don’t worry about all that, Rick,” replied Paul. “The dancing thing is all part of what Alex and Wes sold off to the tabloids a few years back. I’m just pissed at myself.” Paul turned to Daryl, his misty blue eyes wet with tears. “Daryl, I’m so sorry. I never wanted my life or my past to come back and hurt us.“

“Nah, fuck that,” Daryl interrupted, shaking his head, reaching over, and fixing a lock of Paul’s hair behind the beautiful actor’s left ear. “You ain’t responsible for this fucker’s crazy.”

“Daryl’s right,” said Rick. “Agents out in California went into his place in Los Angeles. He’s got tons of magazines and posters of pictures of you. They think he had some kind of episode and began trying to follow fan information on social media to locate you and Daryl. Then, he went off to Arizona and confronted Alex and Wes, and from there things went sideways and snowballed.”

“I wish I had been able to put a stop to this,” Paul said, his voice hollow. “I never recognized him in the picture that the convention security guys were circulating. Years had passed, and the picture I recall just looked like some random, unkempt guy. Now, Alex and Wes…”

Daryl reached over and lifted Paul’s chin to look up at him. “It ain’t your fault. You didn’t make that happen.”

“I know,” Paul said, nodding. “I just wish all this hadn’t happened this way.”

“Well, I’ll let you guys get some more rest,” said Rick over the phone. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

After saying their goodbyes and disconnecting, Daryl placed his phone back on the nightstand before turning back to draw Paul in close. They lay together in the darkened silence. Soon, Daryl felt his beautiful actor shake involuntarily as the young man began to cry quietly against his hunter’s chest. After the cathartic moment, Daryl rolled Paul onto his back and came over to rest on top of the younger man. Then, he spoke quietly.

“I’m glad he’s caught,” Daryl declared. “I ain’t never gonna let nothin’ happen to you. You know that. Just like I know you wouldn’t let nobody hurt me.”

 ** _“I’ll always keep you safe.”_** The ride whirled around and around. Daryl came to at the sound of Paul’s groan; their embrace was so tight, the two of them clinging to each other for sustenance. Easing down, the couple cuddled together, kissing softly. Paul shifted to spoon up behind Daryl and to rub his handsome hunter’s scarred back, warm breath and fingers tracing gently over the skin; he loved the satisfied noises he could draw from Daryl. They lay together just like that for at least another hour until they heard the scampering at the foot of the bed. 

Daryl rose and found Shadow enjoying one of the puff-ball toys from his Christmas stocking. He picked up the two and showed Paul what he had found much to the actor’s delight. 

Figuring sleep was no longer an option, Daryl took the kitten and its toy back into the kitchen while Paul gathered their workout gear. Soon, they pair had completed their run and weights by swimming a few laps. Coach was more than elated to hear the good news and made the pair promise to “stop fucking each other’s brains out and show up for poker night over at Merle’s.”

Daryl stopped for gas and picked up two large coffees and a couple of doughnuts from the QuikTrip before driving over to their appointment. The King County Governmental Complex included the new courthouse and county administration office, the mayor’s office, the county clerk and records bureau, and the new sheriff’s office and county jail. He told Paul that Rick had explained how integrating the city police force into the county had saved the constabulary significant financial resources.

“Rick doesn’t happen to have one of those crazy military siege vehicles parked behind his office, does he?” asked Paul.

“Nah,” Daryl answered, shaking his head. Then, he added, “They keep that thing over at Shane’s. He likes to polish it a lot.”

Paul rolled his eyes, catching Daryl’s jest. “It all makes sense now. There’s a Freudian analogy in there somewhere.”

Daryl pulled the truck into the parking space, put the gear shift into parking, and looked back over at his boyfriend. “I ain’t seen it, but according to Rick…” Daryl held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart and started chuckling.

“You two are two are as bad as Coach,” Paul admonished, leaning in and giving Daryl a kiss. “Let’s get this over with. We have a vacation to pack for.”

They walked up to the glass front of the two-story building of red brick and brushed steel. To the west side of the administrative building was a containment wall topped with coils of razor-wire for the detention center’s exercise yard that connected to the main jail and inmate processing. The inside of the lobby still smelled faintly of the new paint on the creamy beige walls. A trustee in white uniform ran a buffing wheel over the dark green marble tile floor, adding to the faint reflection of the bright spot lights recessed high above in the ceiling. A huge duty desk dominated the north side of the room, bowing outward in all polished cherry wood and brushed nickel accents with a green marble countertop that matched the floors. Three officers manned the desk. Off to the left side were rows of industrial seating in a waiting room that looked much more utilitarian. Cameras observed from nearly every corner.

“This place looks like the most secure bank ever,” Paul whispered. 

Daryl huffed a small laugh and guided his adorable actor over to the next open sergeant, whispering back, “Yeah, I ain’t never had to pick up Merle from this one. You shoulda seen the old jail house.”

“Let me guess,” Paul conjectured. “There were hitching posts and watering troughs outside for your mount?”

“Just about it,” Daryl said, huffing a laugh.

The sergeant, an older black gentleman with heavily graying hair, nodded to them and waved them to his station. Daryl stepped up and said, “We have an appointment to meet Special Agents Winslow and Farron.” Daryl took out his driver’s license and Paul quickly followed suit.

“Dixon and Rovia?” They handed over the licenses for the officer to review. He nodded and returned them before picking up the desk phone and informing someone that the men had arrived. When he finished, the officer informed, “It’ll be just a minute. Please feel free to take a seat in the waiting room.”

Before they could even find a place to sit, a metal security door buzzed opened and another officer called them back. They followed the officer through an initial security checkpoint, through a metal detector, and onward to a conference room with glass walls. Inside the room, Rick and the two special agents—one male, one female—stood to greet them. Special Agent Farron was younger than Paul had expected with honey blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. Special Agent Winslow was a thin, graying, middle-aged man of medium height and wiry build. 

On entering, Paul dialed a number on his phone and put it on speakerphone as he placed it on the table. A conference center line clicked over. Victor Strand and Andrea Holton-Blake announced their presences respectively; Paul and Daryl had not wasted any time contacting their legal counsel. Rick explained the interview procedure and made sure the conversation was being recorded appropriately. When the two attorneys were advised of the situation, both federal agents appeared taken slightly aback. Immediately, Winslow’s demeanor became direct and prickly. Farron’s questions were less barbed, but she was still gruff and pushy when she found a point she wanted to explore. 

Paul answered questions for an hour and reviewed more photos, identifying Wilton in several pictures. There were a few questions for Daryl as well, but not many overall. When questions came up that implied Paul’s potential involvement with Wilton, Daryl sat forward in his chair. Paul reached over and took his hand.

“Let’s stop right there,” came Victor’s commanding voice. “Is the Bureau charging our clients with something or suggesting some kind of conspiracy regarding the homicides or wrongful deaths of Byers and Alverson?

“Not at all,” Winslow replied tersely, his smile never meeting his eyes. ”We’re just insuring that Wilton can’t use that route as a defense.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Victor mused, his dubious tone clearly evident even over the speakerphone. “We truly appreciate the Bureau’s consideration, but as my client has already advised you: there has been absolutely _no_ contact nor any conspiracy. Are we all clear on that point?”

“Yes,” conceded Special Agent Farron.

“And along those lines,” Andrea said, speaking up. “Is the Bureau also clear on the facts that, based on the official reports of Sheriff Grimes and his department, our clients had no prior knowledge of the actions of Crighton Dallas Wilton and that they are the ones, according to the records of the burner phone found in his possession, who have endured being threatened and harassed here? I’m sure once the federal charges are filed, the State of Georgia will pursue further action concerning its laws governing anti-stalking, criminal trespassing, and attempted murder.”

There was a pregnant pause. The agents seemed to be wondering just how fast the lawyers had received the reports.

“Hello! I am addressing the living,” Andrea snapped.

“The Bureau is in agreement on all these points,” Farron admitted grudgingly. “We simply want to be thorough.”

“And we are happy to provide any help we can,” Paul said, breaking the tension. “Is there anything else?”

“Not at this time,” Winslow said, standing and buttoning his blazer. “Thank you both for coming in.” The agents reached over and shook their hands.

“In that case, Ms Blake and I will be happy to take depositions from our clients and provide rush transcripts to the District and Federal Prosecutors,” said Victor.

“I hope this helps,” Paul answered. “Thank you both, Andrea and Victor. We appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure. See you soon!” Victor said. “And Ms Blake, I’d like to call follow up with you on the phone if you have the time.”

“Sounds great, Victor,” Andrea answered. “Daryl, would you give Victor my cell number? We can coordinate from our side then call you guys with an appointment to give your statements.”

“Sure thing, and thanks,” Daryl answered. Opening his contacts to send it over. 

The lawyers disconnected. Daryl nodded, and he and Paul shook the agents’ hands before nodding to Rick. The sheriff’s phone pinged and he checked the notification. “They’re ready to move him.” Everyone exited the conference room.

Daryl and Paul followed Rick along the main corridor up to the security checkpoint. Rick stopped them as the two agents stepped forward to meet two deputies and a prisoner in bright orange coveralls, handcuffs and manacles. Crighton Dallas Wilton looked up to see Paul Rovia, the object of his obsession, standing in the hallway with Daryl Dixon at his side.

The world moved in slow motion. Winslow held the clipboard and had just finished signing the transfer paperwork. Farron was reaching for the clipboard and pen. 

With a feral cry of “ **PAUL**!” Wilton grabbed Farron’s sidearm from her belt holster and fired off three rounds. Both of the agents and the nearest deputy were hit and down. A fourth shot rang out and whizzing right past Rick’s right shoulder and embedded itself in the wall of the connecting hallway.

Wilton cried out again, but this time in agony as Daryl Dixon charged and grabbed the gun, turning inward and crushing the murderer against the cinderblock wall. Both men went down growling incomprehensibly at each other as Farron’s pistol barked a final time.

“ **DARYL**!!!” Paul yelled, running to his man’s side with Rick and more officers right on this heels.

Daryl Dixon back away from Wilton to the yells of police officers entering the area with weapons drawn and commands to drop all weapons and lie face-down on the hallway floor. Daryl and Paul complied and remained so until Rick took over and had them safely escorted to his office.

Rick reappeared later, his expression somber. Farron sustained a bullet wound at near point-blank range in the left hip while Winslow had suffered a shot to the right arm; both of the agents were in stable condition and expected to recover. Deputy Thomas was not nearly as lucky, having been hit in the abdomen and rushed to emergency surgery. As for Crighton Dallas “Tex” Wilton, he lay dead on the floor, having bled out as a result of the stolen gun firing in his struggle with Daryl.

Paul and Daryl were on the couch in Rick’s office, Daryl lying down with his head in Paul’s lap and his eyes closed; he was trying to rest but he was tense and coiled. Rick hated to do it, but he interrupted his brother’s respite.

“The video surveillance is clear as to what happened,” Rick said quietly. He bent down to a crouch in front of the two men on the couch; his eyes were red and irritated. “I hate to have to do it, but I need to take official statements from each of you. Call your lawyers back. More FBI agents are on the way down from the Atlanta field office.” He looked hard at Daryl as the mechanic sat up. In that very moment, Daryl and Paul saw that the policeman was truly shaken to the core. “Daryl— _brother_ , you could’ve been—“ Rick broke off, unable to hold his voice steady.

Daryl stood up fast, jaw set, breath coming hard through his nostrils. “Nuh-uh. Hell no! Rick, that guy killed two men already.” Daryl voice rose in volume and agitation with every word. “He takes his chance and tries to kill two feds, a deputy, _my brother_? _My boyfriend_?”

“Daryl, _why_ did you do that?” Rick asked; although his question was serious, the sheriff’s voice was quiet and laced with fear and grief. “You almost got yourself _killed_ , man.”

Daryl began pacing back and forth, his ire released in a swansong of frustration. “What the _fuck_ , Rick?!!” Daryl yelled. “I thought he was gonna _kill_ me, kill _Paul_ , and maybe even you and then himself! I couldn’t, man! I mean—FUCK! I just couldn’t let that _happen_!”

Rick was replaying the scene in his mind. “Wh—what did he say to you? There at the end of the fight.”

Daryl glowered at his brother, still pacing back and forth, his bottom lip trembling with rage as he continued and scoffed, “That shit-stain said I was just some trailer trash bitch and that I wasn’t good enough for him. I told the crazy-ass fucker ‘I ain’t _nobody’s_ bitch!’ Then, I _showed_ him so when I bent his goddamn hand in and turned that gun away from my fuckin’ stomach and back into his own chest.” The brawny redneck stopped and nodded once to emphasize his next statement. “The bastard couldn’t hurt anybody else until he pulled the trigger, and then he—he just stopped struggling.” Daryl’s face scrunched up, his anger and adrenaline nearly spent. “Y’all don’t be mad at me.” 

“We’re not mad, baby,” Paul comforted, leaning up to kiss Daryl’s left shoulder.

“No, no, no, Daryl. For god’s sake, we’re not mad at you,” Rick echoed.

“You saved us,” Paul declared softy as tears streamed down his face.

Daryl sniffed and wiped a forearm at his own eyes. “You think I could just stand there and let it happen again!” Daryl threw a loose arm to point abstractedly back out at the hallway with the now-deceased Wilton. “You goddamned right I jumped him! I wasn’t strong enough before—when my Daddy—when he…” He broke off as Paul pulled him back down to the couch and into his chest, arms wrapped around those massive, shaking shoulders. 

Rick wiped at his face, crouched back down before the two men, and nodded his understanding as he rubbed a hand on his brother’s back. The earlier scene had happened once before, many years ago with Will Dixon shooting at Daryl’s first boyfriend and proceeding to beat Daryl nearly to death. The memory of Daryl’s ravaged, bloody back flooded through Rick’s mind as he felt the raised scar tissue beneath the flannel shirt.

After a couple of minutes of heaving sobs, Daryl pulled both Paul and Rick into a heavy hug. The hunter’s voice was changed by his stuffy nose. “I done come through too much shit to lose my family and my happiness to some fucking psycho who’s gone off the deep end. I ain’t gonna let that happen, not now, not ever. Never again. I’ll never stop fightin’ for what’s mine or for who I love. Never.”

The three men remained huddled together for a couple of silent moments. When they had all calmed down, they broke apart. Just after 2:30 in the afternoon, their latest statements had been recorded, affidavits signed, and Daryl and Paul were cleared to leave. Rick had officers back away the news crews and paparazzi who seemed to arrive magically on the scene while he went out to make an official statement along with one of the newly arrived FBI agents. 

Feeling oddly shaky after the adrenaline rush, coupled with the lack of having had a decent breakfast nor lunch, Daryl relinquished his keys to Paul to drive them home to make a late lunch together and to place a few specific phone calls. Victor Strand was ready to sue the King County Sheriff’s Department and the FBI all the way back into the Stone Age for their apparent lack of properly coordinated security procedures, but Paul assured him that the entire situation had been a fluke and that he had no intention of filing any suit against his future brother-in-law’s department. Andrea canceled the deposition appointment and encouraged the boys to continue with their vacation plans. Madison Clark called to check on them as well, having learned of the incident from Victor and news media calls to her office for official statements; there were already feelers out from a couple of networks for potential television interviews from Diane Sawyer and Katie Couric. Paul assured Maddie that the couple were just shaken and that he had no intention of subjecting Daryl to even more media.

It took the rest of the day to assure their various family members that everyone was fine. Merle arrived first and went through the sequence of events from that morning with his baby brother and Paul. Carol and Denise both left work early and drove over to talk with duo for a couple of hours. Denise told them she’d be happy to refer them to a therapist if either Daryl or Paul ever thought they might want to talk about the incident or their feelings; it was truly the mark of their group of friends. Maggie, Glenn, and little Hershel arrived with Dr Greene and Ms Annette to check that their boys were alive and well. 

Before the offer of going out to dinner even made it to Glenn’s lips, new arrivals showed; Jared and Alden had ganged up with Aaron, Eric, Laura, and Arat to bring dinner over to the house so that neither of the men would have to cook nor go out and be hounded by reporters. Daryl started to joke about it looking like a southern funeral but thought better of it. They had plenty to spare, and family found comfort knowing that both men were safe after the harrowing events of the day.

Once everyone else had left at a little after 9:00 PM, Daryl opened the door to their final visitor. He and Paul checked the door cam to find a familiar face. Paul ran to turn on the porch lights and open the door. Deputy Tara Chambler stood there in her uniform and heavy coat, looking back out at several gathered vehicles. Two were news crews, the other three were most likely print news, or worse. At the sound of the door opening, Tara turned back to face Paul and started shaking her head; she looked ready to cry, but she held her emotions together well.

“Hey!” said Paul. “Come in!” Tara held off and watched as Daryl stepped up beside Paul.

“Guys,” she started. “Look. I know you’ve both already been bombarded by officials and family and friends…” She paused as Lucky came up. “Hi, girl!” Lucky growled back, wary of the new visitor. “Uh, oooo-kay…” Daryl shushed the dog and she sat with a grunt.

“Tara, please come inside,” Paul insisted. “You’re freezing out there, and you’re family too.”

Tara nodded and stepped in to let Daryl close the door. Paul drew her into a hug. Daryl reached around to embrace them both.

“I’m so sorry,” Tara said, her head buried in both men’s shoulders. “I was finishing up my report, and I told them to have one of the rookies escort Wilton from holding. I should’ve been there.”

“That’s was on him, not you,” Paul comforted.

“I think he’d have done it either way,” Daryl said. “The Farron and Winslow took it for granted that he was gonna be easy to handle all cuffed and shackled. They didn’t treat him like the sick man he was.”

Paul turned his head to face Daryl and kissed him on the lips softly. They smiled at each other for a second, knowing they were both all right, then gave Tara a kiss on the head.

“Your other half was over here to check on us earlier,” Daryl said as the group hug broke apart.

Tara nodded. “Yeah. I talked to her.” Lucky jumped up to put her paws on Tara, remembering her scent. “Hey! Did you figure out who I am, sweet girl?” She ruffled the happy dog’s fur.

Paul led them all into the kitchen where he grabbed Tara an orange soda from the refrigerator. She accepted it with a grin, finally feeling her mood lighten. Clearly the boys recognized that she’d needed to speak with them, to hear their words and to know that everything was okay, even if they did not blame her; Tara blamed herself. They made her eat a plate of leftovers from the huge meal and sat talking with her while she ate.

“When is your detective exam?” asked Paul, remembering the important event.

Tara brightened and smiled. “It’s next Thursday, and the fucker’s _six_ hours long. Meanwhile, you guys are gonna be down in the tropics enjoying lots of tequila and fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Damn right!” Daryl answered. Paul and Tara laughed heartily as Daryl nodded emphatically, a crooked smile on his handsome features.

“If you get the chance,” started Paul, “could you make sure someone rides by over here to check on Beth while she house sits for us? I know my folks would feel a lot better knowing that the law was still looking out, even though the direct threat is gone.”

“Of course,” Tara said. “In fact, I was gonna volunteer me and Denise to house-sit if you didn’t have anyone.”

“Honestly, I’d feel better if Beth had someone here with her,” said Paul. “And I know my Mama would.”

“Then, that’s settled. “Tell Beth she’s gonna have roommates,” said Tara.

“Poor Zach,” mused Daryl. That got a round of laughter.

As she left, Tara made it her business to shoo away any paparazzi from the neighborhood; she also let the reporters know she had been the arresting officer and that if they would leave this house alone, she would meet them at the gas station where she had apprehended the fugitive to give an interview directly. While that was going on, Sasha texted Paul to see if they needed anything. When he saw it, Paul immediately called Sasha back to let her and Bob know they were fine and that he and Daryl would see them soon. By the time Paul hung up, Daryl was over talking about the incident any longer, and Paul led his beloved back to their bedroom where they undressed and got under the covers.

Paul held Daryl, fingers gently stroking his back until the big man fell asleep around 2:00 AM the following morning. When they rose after 10:00 AM, a much invigorated Daryl initiated back-to-back of rounds of very intense sex, with him topping Paul first and then riding Paul’s cock to another shared orgasm.

When Paul started to ease out, Daryl grunted and held him fast. “No!” He bent forward to lay on Paul as he cried, tears running down his face; Daryl’s voice was choked. “Not yet. I need you inside me a while longer. I can’t lose you right now.” Paul felt his beautiful god-of-a-man begin to shake as Paul held him tight.

“I’m here,” Paul said, his voice a soothing whisper in Daryl’s left ear. “You haven’t lost me. You saved me. You saved us.” 

They lay quietly joined together until the strapping hunter felt at ease again. Eventually, Paul got him to laugh about something inane, and feeling himself grow hard with desire again, rolled Daryl onto his back and proceeded to pump into the hunter, deep and slow. It amazed Daryl how Paul stayed so goddamn flexible, especially when his little ninja started sucking Daryl’s engorged cock while fucking him. The shout Daryl made as he came hard into Paul’s mouth resulted in barks from Lucky out in the kitchen. Paul swallowed Daryl’s come greedily before answering back with a comical werewolf howl of his own when he thrust and released into his perfect partner, the man who had saved him from disaster, desolation, and even death. The rode their ecstasy back down together, staring deep into one another’s eyes.

 ** _“I’m always here.”_** The roller coaster dove out from under the pair, leaving both with tears of happiness to wash away the strain of the prior day’s events. Afterward, soaked in sweat and ejaculate, Daryl rose, carrying Paul into the bathroom to shower together.

“How do you feel, Superman?” Paul asked softly as he worked the shampoo through Daryl’s hair, nails gently massaging his handsome mechanic’s scalp.

Daryl felt his soul expand at the question and moaned, leaning down to kiss Paul and drawing them both beneath the spray. When the kissed finally ended, Daryl answered softly, “I feel like the luckiest man in the world, and I’m crazy in love with you, Paul Rovia.”

“Co-luckiest,” Paul corrected, his lips brushing against Daryl’s own. “And I’m lost in love with you too, Daryl Dixon.”

**_“I love you.”_ **

Daryl put in to go to the shop and work the rest of the day, and Paul agreed, remaining behind to start getting everything ready for their trip that weekend. Paul took Daryl over to _Craig & Connor’s_ for dinner to tell him about the statement he had Madison release to _Entertainment Weekly_ and on his social media. The outpouring of love and support was beyond belief. There had even been calls from the governor of Georgia and the Regional Director of the FBI as the Bureau wanted the incident to blow over as quickly as possible. Connor reached out to each of the men separately the moments he heard the news. In fact, they received a deluge of supportive calls from cast and crew once the story hit the national news.

By Wednesday, things had returned to normal for the couple. The puppies even had their eyes opening up and were becoming much more mobile. The Grimes family came by at dinner-time to see the puppies and meet Lucky. The shepherd mix took to the family members right off, checking each of them out one by one. Daryl sat with Judith and whispered to her, telling her how to hold her hand out for the dog to sniff and to not be afraid. They were all amused that Judith only whispered when she was around the puppies because she’d been told that they had to sleep a great deal. Paul and Daryl managed to take some incredible photos and video of the Grimes family in a true puppy pile. Shadow opted to stay in the warm dog bed under the guise of feline prerogative.

The next evening began with hot wings over at Carol’ and Merle’s house, followed by poker and tons of trash talking. It never disappointed.

“You know what?” Negan asked. “You. Suck. _Ass_ , Rick! You _really_ do!” Coach just glared at the man directly to his right around the poker table and shook his head in disgust, lips pursed tight in mock umbrage. Negan snorted like an angry bull as he checked his cards once more. It was clear to everyone that they were not going to get any better this hand. “You could’ve just checked, you fuckin’ ass-hat.”

The table burst into laughter as Rick just tried to look innocent. “Look man, my cards are telling me it’s the right time to raise,” the sheriff defended. “Now, are you in or not? If so, it’s four hundred to you, potty mouth.”

Negan scowled and slid his cards to the side. “Fuckin’ fold.”

Merle puffed out a breath and followed suit, tossing his cards toward Paul who was dealing for the table while occasionally petting Chance. Evidently, the new dog had acclimated very well to life with Carol, Merle, and Sophia. He lolled his tongue as he sat staring up at the handsome actor. Whenever the dog’s whimpering for affection got to be too much, Carol or Merle would instruct him to go lie down on his cushion.

“It’s to you, Carol,” Rick said.

“Listen how fuckin’ eager beaver he is!” Negan jibed. “Oh, he thinks he has fuckin’ _got_ it!”

Phillip Blake burst into laughter and added, “He’s got a point, Rick.” The new mayor nodded over to Carol. “This angel of mercy over here just slaved away in the kitchen after working a full day to feed your slack ass, and you just raise four hundred like that?”

“Dude,” Rick griped. “Didn’t you just try to take out Merle not three hands ago?”

“Yeah, fucker!” said Negan, shifting the trash talk. “Merle was in there making that nacho dip you ate the hell out of. So why did you put him on full blast?”

“Yeah, man! Poor me! I fed you lazy bastards!” said Merle, looking at the healthy pile of chips he still had.

Phillip ignored Merle’s comment and answered Negan. “Because unlike you, Coach, I know better than to leave a Dixon alive at the poker table! Those fuckers are hard to kill!” Much laughter ensued.

“Well, far be it from me to stand in Rick’s way,” said Carol, folding her hand as well and looking to Phillip.

Phillip shrugged, calmly reached over, picked up four black poker chips, and held them up to speak to them. “Go make friends and bring them home with you!” Then, the mayor dropped them in the center of the table with the rest of the hand’s wagers. A round of chortling circled the table.

Daryl looked at his chips. His pile was much more substantial since he had wiped out Rosita and Tara a few hands back with a pair of jacks in the pocket giving him a full house. Now, the ace and three of diamonds sat able ready to make fall into place with if the river card went his way. But those were long odds. He looked up to find Paul scratching Chance behind the ears.

“Is he still taking his drops?” Paul asked Carol.

She nodded back. “Yep. He gets them in each ear in the morning and just after dinner just like your father prescribed, and that makes him a really happy camper. Doesn’t it sweetie?” The dog quickly darted around the table to nuzzle against Carol’s hip before running back to Paul. “He’s my good boy, but I think he‘s in love with you, Snookums.”

“I think he’s in love with the two chicken wings I ate at the last break,” Paul surmised skeptically. Daryl stared at the scene with a quiet smile as the black and russet dog kept trying to get into Paul’s lap like he was a miniature schnauzer rather than a growing Rottie mix. At his gorgeous actor’s laugh, Daryl felt his heart beat quicken.

“I’m all in,” Daryl rasped quietly.

“Ah, mother dick!” Abraham groused. “Fold.”

Rick’s eyebrows rose higher, and he nodded with a smug look on his face. “How much is that?”

Daryl took a quick moment to counter his chips and slid the forward. “Forty-eight fifty,” the strapping man answered, his face a mask of emotionless stone.

The sheriff leaned forward over the table, looking at the cards currently on the table and the huge pile of chips before sliding his own pile of nearly forty-three hundred into the table. “Well, I can’t quite meet all of it, but that puts me all in too, man. Take back six twenty-five.”

Daryl shrugged. “S’all good, man.” He glanced up at Paul through his bangs, allowed their eyes lock for a second, and then dropped his ocean blue eyes back to his cards.

Phillip shook his head in resignation and went all in with only fourteen hundred. He pushed his chips forward. “That’s all I got.”

“Burn ‘em and turn ‘em,” Abraham said. 

Paul dealt a discard, then turned up the river card. The five of diamonds joined three other like-suited cards: a three, a queen, and a four. The odd suit out was the queen of hearts. Phillip showed a three of a kind, having started with a pair of threes in his hand. Rick smugly flipped over the queen of spades and the queen of clubs to reveal four of a kind. The sheriff grinned and leaned over, reaching for the pile of chips. Just before his hand touched the chips, Daryl turned over his cards one at a time to reveal the ace and two of diamonds for a straight flush, ace through five. Carol gasped and clapped her hands together. Phillip hissed in regret at not having folded earlier. Merle and Abraham let out a simultaneous guffaw, the latter of the two nearly choking on his sip of beer and ending up in a tearful coughing fit. Negan began to chuckle in Rick’s ear. Poor Rick’s head fell down into his hands in utter defeat. Daryl looked back up to watch the beautiful smile break over Paul’s face.

“You feel that, Rick?” Negan taunted. “That would be Daryl just figuratively ripping your nut sac right the fuck off and handing it back to you!” Negan declared. “You know what? I believe I’d pay to see that shit happen again!”

“In ultra-HD slow-motion,” barked Abraham between coughs, “and Dolby stereo! Wet and squishy!”

“Man, fuck both of y’all,” Rick grumbled, flying both men the middle finger and watching as his chips went with the rest of the pile over to Daryl.

“Good hand,” Daryl said, reaching over to shake Rick’s hand then Phillip's. Rick took it with a nod, and Daryl finally got a smile back.

Tara and Rosita came back downstairs to the game room with two trays of Carol’s chocolate cheesecake with fresh whipped cream for everyone. Chance tried to jump up to get some until Merle gave a sharp whistle and ordered the dog back over his cushion.

After the dessert and a smoke break, the players returned. Given Daryl’s sizeable stack of hips, it wasn’t long before he took out Carol, Abraham, and Negan, leaving himself and his big brother. Merle finally lost to a flush, but house rules noted that the runner up got their $50 buy-in back plus another $50, and the winner took the rest. That left Merle with $100 and Daryl with the remaining $300 to end the night.

“Don’t reckon you need it to pay for that big-ass fuck-off truck out front, huh?” Coach teased.

“Nope,” Paul answered. “That was a belated Christmas present.” Daryl hugged his beautiful man closer, and they traded a sweet kiss.

“I saw that truck, and I swear my damn dick grew another three inches just thinking about driving it,” said Abraham.

“Hey, Rick! You should definitely take it for a spin!” Negan jibed, giving a pointed glance down toward Rick’s crotch. “Hell, you might want to ride around for a good _long_ while.”

“Better pick up Shane too,” Rosita added.

“Piss on you, Negan,” Rick countered.

“Okay, boys,” Tara said. “You’re both pretty.” She nodded over to where Daryl leaned back into Paul’s body, the actor’s hands around his waist as they continued listening to a joke Phillip was telling. “Just not as pretty as them.” 

Coach Negan nodded in agreement and sauntered over to the group, smirking the whole time. Paul rested his chin on Daryl’s shoulder, his thumb running over the tiny star tattoo on Daryl’s hand.

“So Coach,” Paul said with a quirked eyebrow. “Did you like the spa trip we got you at _Safe Zone_?”

Negan strode over, ran a hand through his hair, and stared at Paul, his stern coach’s stare struggling with the desire to grin. The actor just waited with a knowing smile. Coach sighed heavily as he caught Daryl’ and Phillip’s attention and jerked his head at Paul. “You know what this little shit went and did?”

Daryl shook his head to Negan and peeked at Paul before planting a quick kiss on his beautiful actor’s right cheek.

“He bought me a spa day,” Negan explained. “It included an hour-long massage with this beautiful red-head with magic fucking fingers and legs for days turned out to be the masseuse.” He looked to Daryl. “Turns out this lady and I hit it off with our conversational skills. She fuckin’ asked me out.” 

“I just got you there,” Paul said with an innocent shrug. “Good for Frankie for asking you out. And good for you for letting her. I don’t think Miss Lucille would want you to just sit home alone with Georgia.”

Negan stole Paul from Daryl for a long, solid hug. Family didn’t have a problem showing their thanks in this house.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Paul and Daryl stepped out of Juan Santamaria International Airport in Costa Rica’s capital city along with Connor Reedus and family to discover a humid and pleasantly warm day. A limousine service immediately shuttled them an hour and a half west of San Jose out to a private villa with terracotta roof tiles and elegant brickwork. A solid-looking wall surrounded the property and stood two and a half meters high. At the back of the villa, beyond the pool, the garden grounds, and a heavy gate lay a path out onto a breathtakingly beautiful stretch of private coastline at Playa Matapalo. Above them, an azure sky with a scattering of wispy clouds kissed the far horizon. Crystal blue waves rolled over and crashed, the foaming brine flowing heavily up the shore with the incoming tide.

Connor and Dianna had made prior arrangements for the delivery of grocery items, including high-end wines and liquors. The owner turned out to be an absolutely darling lady named Marcela Flores; she cheerfully greeted everyone and gave a tour of the home, property, and the beach. She introduced the housekeeper and live-in cook, Ana Isabella, an older lady who lived in a separate cottage just south of the main grounds. Watching them interact reminded Paul of “Karen and Rosario” as the pair threw shade at each other in Spanish, much to the amusement of Connor and Murphy, who spoke it fairly well. Daryl had taken Spanish in high school, but never kept up using it, so the words blurred past him along with the humor.

Finally settled, the occupants dropped their bags into their rooms, put on their suits and sunscreen, and made their way down to the shore. Murphy pointed out a scarlet macaw sitting on the second-lowest limb of a huge tree at the edge of the beach. Daryl had started to go for board shorts until he saw the short, royal blue trunks with the front pouch right there in his suitcase. His beautiful actor had selected a matching pair of the Lycra swimming trunks in dark red from his own suitcase. 

Soon, they stood on the beach with Dianna, Connor, and Murphy, getting tips from the latter two about surfing. The storage house had over a dozen decent boards, and Murphy and Connor explained to Daryl how to get his balance and rise. For January, the water was amazingly temperate. Daryl never caught a wave and wiped out several times, but he never let it frustrate him. He watched as Paul and Murphy caught a large wave farther out. Connor paddled over.

“You’re doing good man,” said the artist encouragingly. “It took me over a week and finding a different teacher to be able to get up. My best advice, don’t tense up. Just have fun with it. Let it come, like riding a bike.”

“Or having an orgasm?” Daryl quipped.

“Exactly, man!” Connor laughed. “It’ll happen, and you can just enjoy riding it on down.”

“You just got fucking Zen on me here,” Daryl joked.

Connor shrugged and said, “It’s still the truth, dude.” He clapped Daryl’s shoulder affectionately. “We’re glad you guys are both safe and that you’re here with us. Just so you know, I picked this place because it came with a private beach and a personal security option.” Connor pointed north then south to illustrate as he explained, “This beach is closed off for two kilometers in each direction. If you and Paul want to swim or catch some rays or stroll naked out here, that’s cool with us; this is the clothing optional beach. We’re probably gonna do the same at some point. Being naked isn’t a hang-up for us. I just wanted this getaway to be really laid back, peaceful, and happy.”

“That’s cool,” Daryl said, nodding his understanding. 

“Whoa! Check ‘em out!” Connor exclaimed. 

Murphy and Paul were riding a large wave in as two bottle-nosed dolphins jumped out of the water ahead of them, curious to find out about the intrepid surfers. Daryl had only seen dolphins twice in his life. Once was at the Georgia Aquarium when it had first opened. Sophia and Carl were dying to get in to see the whale sharks and penguins, so Carol insisted that they all make it a big family trip into the city to check out the attraction. The first time, however, was twenty years before down on Saint Simon’s Island outside of Brunswick when he and his elder brother were visiting some less than reputable associates of Merle’s. Merle had gotten completely wasted on meth, and Daryl hadn’t wanted see the effects much less hang around with that unsavory lot of miscreants and degenerates in his brother’s circle. Instead, he’d made his way out to the beach, walked it forever until he came to a stretch called East Beach. It was pretty desolate and quiet with a sign that read: “Caution: No Lifeguard on duty. Dangerous currents and strong undertow. Swim at your own risk.” He’d looked around again and spied the nearest person at least a mile away farther down the shore by some fancy four-star hotel he’d never be able to walk into. So, he’d just pulled off his ratty Van Halen t-shirt, removed his shoes and socks, and shucked off his jeans to tuck them, his wallet, and smokes among the massive granite rocks before dashing out naked into the water. 

He’d been commando that day, and the water felt blessedly refreshing in contrast to the scorching sand in early August. Daryl had swam out far enough that the water was at the top of his chest. Seagulls were drifting effortlessly overhead. The water was brown and muddy there, not the clear blue the movies and television sold; that was the result of the inlet of three major rivers washing out through the marsh to meet the ocean, chief among them being the Altamaha. Daryl had always been a strong swimmer. It was the first survival skill his Uncle Jess had taught him before he had even started first grade. Daryl swam hard, channeling his anger into physical power: anger at Merle, at his father, at their lives, at his mother’s carelessness, at himself, at his regrets, at these total sleazebags Merle planned to fuck over. He realized quickly that he’d moved much farther down and was finally winded. Then, he realized something else: the shore line had dipped far below, and he was no longer in a place where he could simply stand with his feet touching the bottom. As he felt for it with his feet, there was the strong rush of cooler water beneath his toes.

_Strong undertow._

Seeing the warning sign so far away was both good and bad. It was good that he actually saw it, and therefore, he could use it to guide himself back to where his things were hidden among the embankment rocks. It was bad that it was so far away, and he was getting tired. Sure, he could swim straight toward shore, but he would have to chance walking naked all the way back up the beachline. Being seen naked didn’t really bother him; he didn’t care about anyone seeing his scars if he didn’t know them, certainly not if he didn’t respect them, but he did care about getting busted by the cops for indecent exposure, especially on a public beach where there could be kids. That would give him a record as a sex offender; it could also cause trouble for Merle, and he didn’t want that. Trouble for Merle often translated into Daryl taking the brunt of Will’s displeasure about it. Throwing caution to the wind, Daryl started to breaststroke back up with the current in a leisurely pace, letting the water do more work. Tide was coming in, so he was heading in the right direction.

That was when he’d felt something brush along his right hand at the far reach of his out-stroke. Something big. Daryl stopped and treaded water before finding purchase below; he had to be on tip-toe to keep his lips just about the water. A fin broke the surface. Daryl’s heart nearly stopped as he’d watched it. Sand sharks were known to come in very close to shore here; so did hammerheads, black tips, tiger sharks—hell, bull sharks would even go up freshwater rivers. Other types were just as common here. His heart started to race as the opening scene from Jaws flashed through his mind.

_Including great whites._

Then a second fin broke the water, and a third, and a fourth, and nearly a dozen more in arcing rolls; blowholes spraying and gulping down fresh air. It was a school of dolphins playing along close to shore! The young redneck had never been so relieved.

The pod moved along quickly, and Daryl swam alongside them for a few moments more before he found the silt of the submerged beachline beneath his feet and then, something else. A shell? But it was round and…fuzzy? He managed to pick it up between his toes and transfer it to his hand. It was a live sand dollar. Daryl ran his finger gently over the hairy little bristles. Sand dollars were good luck, and the things usually went, he could use some. He thought about keeping it, but reconsidered when he realized where and with whom he was currently staying. Carefully, Daryl had returned it to the ocean floor to be about its way. He figured it would probably end up dead on shore by morning, a hapless victim of nature; death from the uncaring tide or being eaten by a fish.

Shaking out his hair again, Daryl checked to see that he was still relatively alone and made his way out of the surf and quickly over the burning sand to his things, yanking on his jeans first, then his shoes. As he sat smoking on the top handrail of the beach access steps, he looked out to the southeast to see the fins again. One of the dolphins even jumped, and of course, others had to do so too. At the time, Daryl had called them show-offs under his breath, although he quietly admitted to himself that he’d do it too if he were a dolphin. 

The memory faded out as he watched the man of his dreams guide the board along the wave like a pro, even leaning over to run his finger in the wall of water. Daryl felt that unstoppable smile break over his face.

“Show off,” Daryl voiced, musing.

“Paul said he used to surf a lot in California,” said Connor. “He’s good. Murphy’s hoping he’ll teach all of us a few tricks.”

“Thanks again for having us down here, man,” said Daryl. “We really needed to get away for a second. I’m ready to leave a goddamn crossbow bolt in the next fan who showed up at our place. Hopefully, the new digs will be better. Gonna see the architect after we get back. She’s really cool.”

“Any time, man,” replied Connor as he leaned down on his board. “Now, c’mon! Let’s get you on a wave.”

Daryl paddled up beside the man as Connor continued. “I’ve had to move so many times in Georgia. People have no boundaries. They think because they see you on TV that you’re just available and accessible whenever they see you or find you. My place in New York City is over at the edge of Chinatown and Little Italy, and when we started this show, Murph was just a little squirt. One day out of nowhere, it was like almost four in the morning, and Murphy’s staying with me that night, and this woman in her slutty lingerie shows up, beating on my door. I’m talkin’ waking my neighbors up, man. It scared me; it scared Murphy; we thought the building was on fire or that there was some kinda terrorist attack again or something, you know? So, I’m like, ‘What the fuck? How the hell did you get in our building?’ and this strange woman’s telling me she paid the old security guard four hundred dollars to give her the address and let her in. And, I’m like, standing there in my sleep pants, just annoyed as shit, and Murphy comes tromping out of his room with his cute little pajamas on, and I don’t wanna let him around me, but he’s like a wiggle worm, trying to see who is at the door in the middle of the night. So, then, this chick asks if she can come in, I guess presuming that we’re gonna fuck, and I just had to hold out my hand and like literally push her away from trying to come in my house, and I just said ‘No! Get the fuck outta here!’ and Murphy, ‘cause he’s heard everything even from a small age blurts out, ‘Yeah! Get the fuck outta here, and stay the fuck away from our house!’”

The two men laughed heartily at the shared memory. They looked out as the larger waves built out beyond them.

“I know it’s nowhere near what you guys have had to deal with,” added Connor.

“Dude, you got bitten by a werewolf lady,” reminded Daryl. “And that other gal nearly wrenched your knee apart picking you up and tryin’ to rough-house you.”

“You make valid points, my friend,” agreed Connor, “but the thing is, you can’t feel bad about doing what you have to do to keep your family and your loved ones safe, especially with the level of false familiarity that comes with this life. It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it is,” said Daryl as he sighed heavily and nodded. “But god _damn_ , man. He’s so fuckin’ _worth_ it, and a whole lot more.”

“Fuck yeah, he is!” agreed Connor, smiling and counting off Paul’s traits on his fingers. “I mean, he’s got a gigantic heart, he’s genuine, he’s crazy smart, he’s funny as all hell, and hot as fuck. I don’t mind tellin’ you, if I wasn’t taken, and he was free, well… Never say never, right?” 

Daryl looked over sharply at his new friend. 

“I’m just saying,” jibed Connor, his hands up in mock surrender. “Although, I would probably be terrified based on what I’ve seen of Paul naked and what your fancy swimsuit seems to be hiding as well. Hashtag big fucking bulge. By the way, Dianna saw your suits; she asked Paul who made them and where he got them. Dude, she was online so fucking fast to try to find some for me.” Connor reached a hand down fast to splash Daryl. The big man laughed and kicked at Connor’s board before slapping a hand into the water to splash back.

“You’re welcome, asshole,” Daryl groused goodheartedly. “They got this cool pouch thing in front. You’re gonna love ‘em. I gotta get my brother Merle some of these.”

“Yo!” Connor said, looking out before them. “Heads up! That one, man! Turn and start paddling! Go! Go! Go!”

Sure enough, the two men found the right wave for the mechanic, and Daryl managed to get up and sail along on the board all the way back in to the shore. A rebel yell from his lungs mixed with cheers from the others, and Paul made his way over to congratulate his man with a kiss.

The next day, the crew took a charter helicopter ride to Playa Tamarindo and spent New Year’s Eve all day out and about at the various waterside attractions. Daryl fell in love with grilled elote, served fresh by street vendors. All four of the guys braved the wonders of fly boarding. Connor and Daryl found a vintage music shop and spent nearly two hours going through old vinyl albums with Murphy. Paul and Dianna found a shop with incredible stonework items. In the central market, they were all nearly mobbed as people began to recognize Connor and Paul. A quick dash to their hotel gave them all a respite until dinner. That evening after returning to the villa, they all sat out on the beach with a bonfire and enjoyed watching the fireworks from farther down the shore line at the main beach.

At midnight, the couples, Ana Isabella, and Murphy toasted with champagne, all except for Dianna who had been abstaining from alcohol. They also passed around the camera to take photos. Half an hour later found Dianna and Connor rocking in a hammock together under the stars in the back courtyard next to the pool; they were talking, laughing, and enjoying each other immensely.

Daryl wished Ana Isabella goodnight as she placed out a late night tray of wraps and a bowl of fruit. Paul stepped into the kitchen quietly and eased up behind his precious man just as Daryl finished the last bite of a small grilled pork wrap. The actor took the brawny man by the hand, turned him around, and led him back out past the other couple, through the back gate, and down to the beach. 

They strolled along, feeling the gentle breeze and making their way to a weathered log that was once a railroad cross-tie but now found purpose as a low bench. Paul brought them to a standstill, catching Daryl’s heated gaze with his ow; the actor slowly removed his shirt. Paul raised his chin and moved in closer. Their lips connected in celestial fire as he began to unbutton Daryl’s shorts. Next came Daryl’s shirt, eased over his head, breaking the kiss momentarily before their lips found each other once more. After that, Paul slid his hands into the sides of Daryl’s underwear, lowering them and leaving his glorious hunter naked. Then, Paul slid down his own shorts and underwear in one deliberate move, all landing haphazardly on the old log bench. It was the night after the full moon, and the white sand of the beach reflected enough moonlight to make out each other and their surroundings quite well. Paul coaxed Daryl onward into the tide. Waves crested and crashed at them, dousing both lovers in the delightfully warm waters. Daryl held Paul close, sucking his little ninja’s tongue into his mouth with fervor. The tide was high again, but they hadn’t strayed in too far, just up to their hips. One particularly big wave caught them in mid-kiss, nearly knocking them over and making them laugh. Daryl moved behind Paul, the both of them facing the shore, a protective stance, his hands finding Paul’s growing erection as his own hardness rutted against Paul’s backside, an erotic and glorious scene, beautiful and enduring.

A voice from the shore yelled, “Smile, guys!” The flash of a camera lit up the night.

“Look at our beautiful friends!” came Dianna’s voice. Paul and Daryl chuckled softly to each other as they looked up and saw Connor and Dianna heading down from the villa. Both were nude and walking out into the water. Connor caught a picture of Dianna as a wave crashed into her. Then, he ran back up to put the camera down at the log bench before coming back to join the others.

“Hey!” Connor yelled as he splashed forward and slipped into Dianna’s arms. “Oh! Wait—we’re not interrupting, are we?”

“Y’all are good,” Daryl answered, squeezing Paul closer and planting a kiss on his gorgeous actor’s left cheek. Paul chuckled softly, knowing they both nearly been caught.

“Oh, look there!” Dianna cried. “The dolphins are back!”

The group looked up to see several dolphins swimming playfully nearby. The dolphins noticed them and turned in to investigate the new arrivals. One jumped clear out of the brine and rocketed its way over, slowing to glide along between the two couples. After a few minutes, one of the dolphins got inquisitive enough to come closer, but they all stayed just out of reach.

“This is so fucking cool!” said Connor.

They spent a few more minutes swimming with the dolphins before heading back to retrieve their clothes and Connor’s camera. The few shots Connor had taken were spectacular to say the least. The first one of Daryl embracing Paul from behind and shielding him from the onslaught of the tide made Paul’s breath catch and Daryl’s heart pound. Paul asked for a copy, and Connor assured him that he’d give them both a copy. Back in the villa and all wrapped up in towels, the two couples had a final snack around the kitchen table and talked about the plans for the remained of the week before heading off to enjoy time together in bed. Not long after, Daryl released deep inside of Paul with the beautiful man moving up and down on the mechanic’s huge phallus, the both of them on their knees in the middle of the bed. Daryl’s release spurred Paul forward to shoot up onto his own stomach and chest. Daryl stayed inside him for a while, the two of them kissing and expressing their mutual adoration.

“You sure you don’t wanna try out in the ocean again?” Daryl whispered.

Paul chortled. “I think salt water might be a little irritating, but the shore…”

Paul found himself scooped up in those powerful arms, the ones that had protected them both little more than a week hence. Before the moon set, the couple came together, sucking each other as the waning surf tickled at their bodies.

The next day, the five of them went on a jungle excursion, taking more photos and enjoying the scenery. Connor admitted to having gotten up to grab a glass of water late in the night and looking out to find the couple engaged in their love making along the beach; the devilishly handsome artist and actor assured them he had left them to their pleasures, but he candidly admitted to having considered taking a photo because the moment was so raw and powerful. The couple thanked him for his discretion and artistic restraint. 

On Thursday, six more friends of Connor and Dianna joined them all at the villa. In all there were two more couples, including Jeffrey Dean Morris, his wife Valerie, and two single ladies, one of whom was a producer and director of the movie during which Connor and Dianna had met. From there, a non-stop adventure began. They took a charter boat out for some snorkeling. Paul swam beside Daryl over a long coral reef, pointing out the cool marine life as they went along in the waters off the coast at Marino Ballena National Park. Octopuses, eels, reef sharks, and parrot fish moved along with various, brilliant schools of fish, a great diaspora of ocean life. This time there were not only dolphins clicking and squealing happily as they played beside the lovers, but a pair of humpback whales breached the surface of the water less than a hundred feet away.

The morning of Connor’s birthday, Paul and Daryl headed to the kitchen to see if Ana Isabella wanted any help with breakfast. Halfway down the hall Dianna tore past the two of them to turn into the nearest bathroom, her hand over her mouth. Two seconds later, the tell-tale sound of vomiting caught their ears. Paul stepped inside the room, grabbed a washcloth, wet it well under the faucet, and came to place the cloth across the back of his friend’s neck while holding her hair back.

“Something disagree with you, hon?” asked Paul.

Dianna finally sat back. Daryl brought in another cloth to let her wipe her face.

“I don’t think so,” answered Dianna. Her breathing started returning to normal. “Thank you both.”

Paul crooked an eyebrow and looked at Daryl. He’d mentioned to Daryl that Dianna had abstained from alcohol. Now, the thought that crossed between them came with big, hopeful smiles.

 ** _“Are you pregnant?”_** Even whispered, the connection through the ride into high speed. Before anyone ould say another word, Daryl was crouched low next to Paul, each of them taking one of Dianna’s hands.

“I think so,” Dianna said. “Connor and I have been trying for a while now.” The men helped her to her feet. “Please don’t say anything to anyone. I want to surprise him with the news later today at the party.”

“Not a word,” Daryl assured. They started to turn and leave when Dianna beckoned them back.

“There is one thing I need,” said Dianna. “That is, if you don’t mind going into town to a pharmacy.”

Paul smiled and hugged Dianna. “One test kit and one back-up coming right up.”

“Wait until after breakfast,” advised Dianna. “That way no one will be the wiser and wonder why you’re missing. Trust me, Connor and Jeffrey together will go all over the place searching for the two of you, and if they don’t find you fucking or sleeping in your rooms, they’ll know something’s up.”

Dianna did her level best to make it most of the way through breakfast before excusing herself, telling Connor she needed to catch a little more sleep and leaving him to get approving looks from the table. Immediately after, Paul and Daryl ordered up a ride and made their way into the local marketplace to purchase the pregnancy test kits, grab a few groceries, and head back to the villa to enjoy the beach and to surf with the other guests.

Connor received several really cool gifts, including two vintage albums from Daryl, both of which their friend had mentioned while searching through the vinyl record shop back at Playa Tamarindo with Daryl and Paul. Daryl found _The Clown_ by Charlie Mingus and _Unknown Pleasures_ by Joy Division and hid both of the albums away before Connor saw them. Then, he purchased them and got Murphy to hide them among his purchases. Paul knew of Connor’s fondness for Backgammon and bought a high-end travel set to give to their friend. Connor loved all of the gifts, but when he opened the small, oblong box with the white and purple test stick inside and saw the “plus sign” indicator, his jaw dropped. Tears of joy spilled from his and Dianna’s eyes as he kissed her to roaring congratulatory cheers. Murphy had managed to get hold of his father’s camera to catch the moment for them all.

Early on Saturday, they bid goodbye to Ana Isabella and Senora Flores and left for the airport and a flight to Los Angeles to attend the Critic’s Choice awards that evening and the Golden Globes the next night. Murphy bid everyone goodbye and took a separate flight home to New York. On the flight to LA, Dianna slept, Paul binged _The Punisher_ , and Connor taught Daryl how to play Backgammon, discovering for himself that the well-built redneck was a very quick study.

Once the four of them checked into their hotel, Connor and Dianna had arranged for a team of stylists to get everyone red carpet-ready, and the red carpet was definitely buzzing with activity and cheering crowds at their arrival. Dianna’s film won best foreign language film at both award shows, catching her and Connor by surprise. Connor’s _Ride Along_ series won its category as well, adding to the excitement. However, the biggest wins went to Paul for his performance in _Death Ascendant_. At the Critic’s Choice Awards, he hadn’t even heard them call his name; in fact, Paul hadn’t even known he’d won until both Daryl and Connor jumped to their feet and crushed him with hugs. At the Golden Globes, however, Paul was ready, his bright, misty-blue eyes shining as he heard his name announced and turned to meet Daryl’s deep ocean-blues.

 ** _“Thank you for sharing this with me.”_** The resulting kiss, and the twist of the ride, momentarily stole their senses. Paul’s acceptance speeches at both ceremonies included his love for his family and friends, acknowledgment of the tireless efforts of the cast and crew, and the support and love of his partner. Now, as Paul spoke at the Golden Globes, Daryl could feel the cameras focusing in on him almost as much as they were on his love as he wiped at the corner of his eye when Paul mentioned his name and expressed his love publicly. Connor and Dianna immediately slid himself over into Paul’s empty seat; Conner threw a supportive arm around Daryl’s wide shoulders, and Dianna gave Daryl a peck on the cheek as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.

On the way to the Golden Globes after-party, everyone checked their silenced smartphones only to find them full of missed calls, texts, and social media notifications. They returned a few critical communications to family. There was a huge party going on at _Craig & Connor’s_ back home hosted by director and executive producer Craig Nicoletti himself, and the group called in to express their love to the fans. Murphy called his Dad to let him know how proud of him he was. He also told Connor that he had won two huge bets he’d placed on _Ride Along_ and Paul, much to the amusement of the limo’s occupants. Victor Strand texted congratulations and noted that his and Madison’s fees would be rising. Madison noted that Paul had a long list of interviews scheduled.

Daryl slept soundly with an arm across Paul’s chest, holding him against his own. Paul rested peacefully against Daryl all through the flight home. At the baggage claim carousel in Atlanta, several people came up to express their congratulations and adoration quietly while Daryl and Paul waited for their luggage to arrive. An airport porter helped to retrieve their bags and escort them to the waiting SUV. Siddiq hopped out of the front seat and quickly opened the doors for the couple before stepping back to help the porter place the bags in the back of the vehicle. 

A young man in his early thirties with close-cut brunette hair and a high-end Nikon camera waved to the couple and said, “Hey, guys? Jake Otto, here! You were kind enough to allow me to take some pictures of you previously at the _It Gets Better_ event last fall in Los Angeles. I know it’s really early, and that you guys are probably wiped, but would you please consider giving me a couple of quick photos for the upcoming issue of _EW_? I swear, I wouldn’t ask if you both didn’t look like rock gods right now.”

Daryl raise a skeptical brow and glanced at his adorable boyfriend, his bright eyes, his lustrous hair. Paul nodded and eased back out of the vehicle for a second, then beckoned Daryl out with him. Several onlookers started pulling out cellphones to get in on the moment. Jake was as good as his word; the man got his pictures, stepped over to ask them which ones they liked, and thanked the couple for their time and patience before wishing them a good day.

“Now _that’s_ how you do it,” Daryl said.

Paul chortled and pulled Daryl down resting the man’s head down in his lap as Siddiq drove them home. Lucky was very excited to see them, and her little pups with the huge feet and heads were becoming exceptionally vocal; their whines and whimpers could be ear-splitting. When their things were inside, and the dogs were settled once more, Paul led Daryl back to their bedroom, put the big man to bed and tucked him in with an extra blanket. Once he connected their phones to their respective chargers, Paul emailed Madison to check his schedule and to coordinate it appropriately, insisting that several of the interview requests be set up by remote to Atlanta where possible. Paul also instructed his agent to reschedule a couple of interviews in London and Paris to coordinate with their trip to Europe.

“What’cha doing, Sunshine?”

Paul explained what he was doing to rearrange his schedule, limiting his time away from home. Daryl said nothing, but he rolled over to face Paul as the man undressed to get in bed next to him; the knowing smile on the handsome mechanic’s face spoke volumes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Daryl said quietly.

Paul slipped under the covers and snuggled himself into Daryl’s broad, muscular chest. “Yes I did.”

Daryl kissed the man of his dreams, and the two of them slept well. They rose together in the early afternoon. While Daryl made them some lunch, he and Paul discussed Paul’s travel schedule to New York, Miami, Chicago, and again to Los Angeles. It would mean at least a week apart. Daryl lifted Paul’s head and kissed him, then gave his love reassurance that he’d be fine while Paul was away.

Paul returned to Georgia in time to meet with Jacqui and Guillermo to review the plans. The house design was perfect, a blend of modern architecture and traditional log cabin with refined brickwork, magnificent wood structuring, and convenient amenities that made it more awesome than anything either of the men could have imagined. It would have three stories, two above ground and one partially below, and it came out to be just slightly over 20,000 square feet with eight bedrooms and ten bathrooms. Paul explained that, given the current sale of his LA home, he was prepared to pay in advance for the construction of the new residence to begin as soon as possible. 

The following Wednesday, Daryl and Paul arrived at the house site. They’d brought a huge box of breakfast biscuits, doughnuts, and thermal jugs of coffee for the crew. Each of them dug a shovel-full of dirt from between the string lines that had been put up the day before to mark the foundation. After leaving, Daryl pulled down one of the less-traveled side roads, stopped the truck, and dragged his gorgeous, laughing boyfriend into the back seat to give him a most unexpected and incredibly thorough blowjob in celebration of the next stage of their life together.


	19. Zero-G Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judith and Carl spend time with their uncles and visit an awesome new addition to Zoo Atlanta, Hershel bends the rules, and the Dixon name is revitalized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting. There is little time to write between school and work. Also, although this may sound like an ending, note that it is **not** ; I have many more chapters planned out! Hope you are still enjoying this story. Thank you for your kudos and comments! They are helpful and inspiring.
> 
> Happy reading!  
> XOXO

As he closed the door to the garage, the handsome mechanic caught the muffled sound of Lucky’s playful bark followed by a shushing noise and a little girl’s stifled, high-pitched giggle coming from farther in the house. In his right hand, he carried a white, pasteboard baker’s box with a capital “C” in hand-written calligraphy script—Carol’s calling card; Daryl sat the box on the small sideboard table near the door. The brawny mechanic smiled to himself as he crouched down and quickly unlaced his work boots and eased them off his feet before shucking off his dirty coveralls and tossing them into the washer with a detergent pod. “Hey! Anybody home?” he called. Daryl set his shoes in the utility room and padded back into the kitchen in his sock feet.

“Wow!” Daryl said dramatically. “Where _is_ everyone? I thought we were supposed to have visitors tonight, but I guess I was wrong.” Daryl heard another giggle.

The chairs were missing from around the kitchen table. Daryl walked through the kitchen to peer into the main living room. His eyebrows shot up, and a smile broke over Daryl’s face at the spectacle. A heavy-duty, bright orange extension cord ran from one of the wall sockets on the far side of the fireplace across the floor only to disappear beneath a massive structure of blankets, sheets, and throws. Nearly every piece of furniture in the room had been commandeered and integrated as supports for the architectural undertaking, and either there had been some new comforter purchases by his handsome actor, or some of his neighbors were currently missing their bedding. The beams of a pair LED flashlights blitzed briefly across the rug at what appeared to be an entrance to the monster blanket fort before clicking off, but the real giveaway was the wagging tail of a shepherd mix now poking out from under the nearest side of the wondrous construct.

Daryl stifled a laugh and kept up the act. “Well, I guess I’ll have to eat all of these _cookies_ Carol made for us by myself since there ain’t no one else home.”

Two gasps and a bark came from beneath the great, downy mound. “Cookies!!!” cried the surprised chorus. Lucky came dashing out of the tent with Lil’ Ass-kicker right behind her, golden curls falling forward to cover her face as she rapidly crawled out of the mock cave’s entrance and got to her feet. Daryl crouched down to hug an excited, whimpering dog with one arm and a happy, laughing little girl with the other, alternating his delivery of a barrage of forehead kisses to each accordingly. One of the sides of the blanket fort rose slightly as Paul emerged, looking adorable with his hair pulled back in a twisted bun; Daryl was absolutely convinced that only Paul could wear a man-bun and make it look sexy.

“Uncle Jesus!” Judith admonished. “You have to go through the _door_! Don’t you remember?”

Paul gave them both a sad face and slunk back under the light blue blanket only to partially emerge a second later from the open front. 

Daryl chuckled to himself. “Hey, baby girl,” he greeted. “Where’s your brother?”

“Coach is bringing him to meet us at _Short Round_ for dinner,” Paul answered. “Carl said that he and some of his friends are interested in going out for varsity football. Tryouts are in May, so Coach has a program to help students learn about the game and starting getting into shape for it. Because Coach was gonna drop Carl by anyway, I told him we’d meet him halfway and invited him to join us for dinner.”

“Good for Carl, but does that mean we gotta find a new gym?” Daryl pondered.

“I asked about that,” Paul answered. “Negan said that all practice teams work out after school, so we shouldn’t be affected.”

“Good,” Daryl approved. He looked back to Judith and gave her another peck on the cheek. “This place looks awesome, sugar-lump! Can I check out your super-cool fort too?”

Judith nodded. “But you have to go in this way,” she said, pointing to the entrance into which Paul was now backing inside. Judith didn’t need to even crouch to walk in between the backs of two chairs. Daryl hunkered down on hands and knees and followed them in.

“It’s dark like a bear cave in here,” Daryl said, feeling his way over the sleeping bags that cushioned the floor. “Y’all got pillows in here too? Wow! I could use a good nap.” He patted one of the pillows.

Paul whispered something to Judith. There was a clicking noise and suddenly a couple of strings of colored Christmas lights came to life in a curtain of soft illumination, hanging up and down the backs of two arm chairs

Daryl looked around to find Judith’s stuffed bear, “Huggy.” He had given it to her and suggested the name of the character in _Starsky & Hutch_ which Daryl had watched as a child whenever he could. His niece had also brought along several of Huggy’s stuffed friends—a pig named “Pudgy-Wudgy,” a panda she called “Shae,” and “Poppy” the elephant in the pretty pink tutu—to complete her traveling menagerie, a veritable necessity for any child staying for the weekend with her uncles. They were all sitting around with cups on saucers and paper napkins in front of them.

“This is way cool, Judith,” Daryl complimented. “I have never seen a more awesome blanket fort in my entire life.” He hugged the little girl close again. The hunter’s eyes locked with the perfect man sitting just a couple of feet across the tent from him; Paul’s resulting smile made the redneck’s heart melt.

“Jesus helped me a whole lot,” she confessed.

“But you decided where everything should go,” Paul insisted, reaching out and smoothing a stray lock of Judith’s golden hair. “Do you still want to sleep in here tonight with Lucky?”

“Yeah! It’s fun in here,” replied Judith. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with a thought. “Hey! You and Uncle Darry can sleep in here with me too! And so can Lucky and Carl!”

“That is a wonderful idea, sugar-lump,” Daryl said, not wanting to burst the child’s bubble. “But me and Paul should sleep on our special mattress for our backs. You wouldn’t want us to be too tired to go to the zoo tomorrow, would you?”

“No!” Judith protested. “We have to go, Uncle Darry! You _promised_! You’re da best-est uncle!”

“Hey!” Paul protested. “I moved all this furniture for your dream-fort!”

“You’re a best-est too, Uncle Jesus!” Judith added quickly, giving Paul a reassuring hug. “Can we have pizza?”

Paul raised his eyebrows and grinned at Daryl, shaking his head in utter amusement as the little girl blasted him with her nearly palpable cuteness. Who could resist that?

“That’s the plan, sweet pea!” Paul said, nuzzling noses with Judith and making her laugh. He looked up at Daryl. “If we sleep in here, we’ll be like a little family of Spartans.”

“Let’s just see how my back feels later on,” suggested Daryl.

Judith agreed to that wholeheartedly, and the gang extricated themselves from the fort and made their way into the kitchen to enjoy a chocolate chip cookie, some apple slices, and a glass of milk. Judith then practiced feeding and watering the dogs, and took them out to walk them along the back fence line while Daryl and Paul watched her from the kitchen window. Lucky was getting very good at catching a tennis ball. The puppies enjoyed exploring around the yard and discovering piles of leaves and mud. Judith was sure to explain to them that they would need a bath.

At little after 6:00 PM, Negan’s shiny, black Yukon Denali pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria just as Paul was extricating Judith from her new car seat in the back of Daryl’s truck. Carl excitedly relayed the details of the training schedule he and his friends would be working on with the coaching staff to be ready for next fall.

“I want to be all ‘buff beast of doom’ like you two,” Carl stated firmly to his uncles as he transferred his backpack full of school books and supplies into back of the truck.

“Is that right?” Daryl mused, ruffling Carl’s hair playfully. Both he and Paul had to admit that Carl had grown nearly half a foot since last August; the kid was growing into an adult at break-neck speed right before their eyes.

“Son, by the time I’m done with you fellas, you’ll be able to wrestle polar bears and tear the tread off of a bulldozer,” said Coach. “How about you run on inside, and get us a table for six and a booster seat for Lil’ Ass-Kicker.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the teen as he made his way into the large, varnished, glass-paned double-doors at the restaurant’s main entrance.

“Hey, Coach,” said Daryl, stepping over and shaking the man’s hand firmly. “Sounds like things are about to step up.”

“Six?” asked Paul, clearly enjoying the flush coming over the coach’s face as Frankie’s white Acura TLX pulled in to the lot and parked next to the big Yukon.

Coach chortled, looked at Daryl, and jerked his head at Paul. “This one’s really got a mouth on him,” groused Negan. Daryl looked at the smile forming on Paul’s beautiful face, and their eyes locked.

 ** _“You have no idea.”_** The ride banked hard, spirits colliding, merging, fusing, and resulting in one soul, one heart.

Judith tugged at Paul’s left hand. They broke the kiss, and the handsome actor lifted her up.

“Stand back,” Negan said quietly as the redheaded masseuse with legs for days joined him and raised her eyebrows at the scene before them. “Mount Spooge could blow at any minute.” Frankie chortled and playfully swatted Negan’s arm. At least he’d kept from dropping the f-bomb in front of Judith.

“Uncle Darry! Uncle Jesus! I want a kissy too!” whined Judith, clearly feeling left out. She stuck out her pursed lips as cute as could be. Daryl attacked her left side while Paul ravaged her right, blowing zerberts on her cheeks and making the little girl explode with cuteness and high-pitched squealing laughter.

“No!” Judith cried. “Your beards tickle!” Squirming hard, Lil’ Ass-Kicker made her way back down to the ground and straightened the denim jacket Paul and Daryl had given her for Christmas and her pastel blue pullover with Elsa from _Frozen_ on it, then she swept her hair out of her face and beamed up at the four adults.

“You hungry, sugar-lump?” Daryl asked.

“Yes, sir,” Judith replied, showing her good manners.

“Me too,” Paul admitted. The look he gave the mechanic promised crippling ecstasy, and a fresh wave of pink washed Daryl’s face and neck.

“C’mon, then,” Daryl ordered. He and Paul each took Judith by the hand and let her swing between them as they made their way to the entrance. Paul peeked over his shoulder at the amused couple behind them.

“Y’all would look so good with kids,” Frankie declared.

“Yeah?” Daryl said, holding the door open. “I believe I could handle four more just like her.”

“Ditto that!” said Paul. “It takes a village!”

“Famous last words,” Negan muttered to Frankie, then he added quietly, “Wait ‘til you two horny fuckers find yourselves cock-blocked by a four year-old in a fucking blanket fort in your own damn living room, then we’ll see how many of ‘em you really want.” Frankie swatted at Coach’s arm playfully again. Coach grinned and shrugged at the pair, earning himself a raised middle finger from Daryl and a shake of the head from Paul.

“We got this,” Paul assured Negan.

Carl stood by a huge, round corner booth and waved the party over; he had a padded booster seat in his hand as he began to slide in to the back of the booth. Daryl slid in next because Judith, true to the nature of a four-year old, put in to sit between Paul and Daryl. Coach and Frankie sat to Carl’s left. Nicholas dropped by the table to say hello and check on everyone before helping the server take the drink orders. When their food arrived, Paul and Daryl watched over Judith as she carefully blew on her baked ravioli to make sure she didn’t scorch herself on the cheese and marinara sauce and to encourage her to try some of the grilled veggies on her plate. Much to her own surprise—and Daryl’s—Judith enjoyed her veggies very much! Once she had eaten her fill, she instantly wriggled down from the seat to escape under the table and reemerge right up between Coach and Frankie.

“Judith!” Carl nagged. “You know Mom doesn’t like it when you do that.”

Coach winked at Carl and turned to look down at the young lady. “Well, hello there, princess,” said Coach in his deep basso rumble. 

“Hello,” Judith answered, adding matter-of-factly, “I like zucchini and mushrooms.”

“Is that a fact?” Coach asked, playing along. “Your brother said you two were staying with your uncles this weekend. Are y’all gonna go camping?”

“We’re going to the zoo in Hot-lanna to see the new tiger!” Judith announced. 

“Wow!” said Frankie. “I heard she really pretty! You guys are gonna have a lot of fun!”

“And, we made a blanket fort to sleep in tonight,” Judith said proudly.

“No way,” Carl said.

“Oh, yeah. Wait ‘til you see the living room,” said Daryl.

“You can come over too,” Judith told Negan. “It’s big enough for the whole town, and it has lights and sleeping bags and pillows and puppies.”

“Pillows and puppies?” Coach asked. “Holy fu—rittatas, kiddo! Sounds like you guys are set!” Negan shifted down in his seat to get more shoulder-to-shoulder with Judith, two conspirators working out details. “You think there’s room enough for Miss Frankie and me to snuggle up in there?”

Judith considered this for a second, then nodded. “Yes, but Lucky and the puppies and my stuffed animals have to be next to me.”

“What about Shadow?” Daryl asked. 

“Shadow has been hiding under the bed due to all the living room chaos,” explained Paul.

“Those puppies are gigantic,” Carl mused.

“Are these the ones you guys rescued?” asked Frankie.

“The very same,” answered Paul. “Miss Lucky is going with these guys next week to her new forever home, and one of the puppies is going to his new forever home with Maggie and Glenn.” Paul took out his phone and showed pictures to everyone. The dogs were truly on the large side, especially considering the fact that they were still puppies who had just recently open their eyes. Paul went on to explain that the dogs’ appetites were growing too, and that he wanted them to get another check-up with Dr Greene just to make sure everything was okay.

Dinner had and raucous conversation exchanged, the family bid farewell to Coach Negan and Frankie and headed home. When they arrived, Daryl immediately swept Judith off to a sudsy bath complete with floating frog, turtle, and duck toys, but the redneck was silently pleased that she liked playing with her toy Triumph motorcycle most of all as evidenced by her ceaseless sound effects. Paul and Carl nearly burst out with laughter when Daryl returned with Judith in her in her pink Dora the Explorer pajamas. She also had on a little black satin robe with the initials “LA” on the left front and the Harley-Davidson logo on the back, her tiny Wayfarer knock-off shades, and her hair in a mint green towel twist, piled on top of her head like a Hollywood starlet. Her little slides had pink faux fur on the upper straps.

“Which Kardashian is she?” asked Carl, taking a picture.

“Pfft,” Daryl scoffed. “Those goddamned Kardashian’s wish they had her style.”

Judith gasped. “Uncle _Darry_! We not s’posed to talk that way.”

“Okay, sugar lump,” Daryl acquiesced, setting her down and kneeling before her. “I’ll try to do better. Okay?”

“That’s a good choice,” Judith advised, dealing out Lori’s sage advice as she patted her uncle’s shoulder.

Once Carl returned ready for bed, Daryl and Paul excused themselves to get showered while the kids watched television in the living room with the blanket fort’s canopy turned back and a bowl of popcorn between them. Lucky sat quietly with her head on Carl’s lap, getting an occasional popped kernel every now and then. Carl was sure to show Judith which kernels were okay for the dog and limited her to giving Lucky one at every other commercial. Judith got distracted with giggles as the puppies came in to lick her face.

Back in the master bathroom, Paul shook his head at Daryl. “Where did you find that little Harley Davidson bathrobe for her?” the actor asked, his delighted grin meeting Daryl's wolfish smile. The strapping mechanic pulled him in close and cradled the smaller man with his powerful arms.

“I can’t give up all my secrets,” Daryl whispered up against Paul’s lips. Paul felt those strong hands, changing direction over his back, one rising up to cradle the back of his neck, the other delving under to waistband of his jeans. Paul rewarded his efforts with an involuntary moan of pleasure, and his mouth met Daryl’s, opening to let his lover’s tongue inside to dance with his own.

Daryl gave a shuddering sigh at Paul’s clever hands unbuckling his belt, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as fingertips edged along the inside of his own waistband, finding purchase enough to unbutton his jeans and lower the zipper. Daryl reached up to raise Paul’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, to catch sight of his handsome actor who took the time to make blanket forts for a little girl. Paul had just lowered Daryl’s jeans when the motion stopped him, and he looked up into his magnificent partner’s face.

 ** _“You’re so fucking beautiful.”_** The roller coaster ride looped, twisted, and looped again, searing hearts and leaving clothing abandoned on the floor behind them.

Paul’s mouth guided Daryl along with him into the white-tiled chamber. Daryl reached around behind his man and turned on the tap before switching the diverter; he broke away long enough to slather Paul’s neck and shoulders with tongue-heavy kisses, touching the spray behind this love to make sure it was just right. Paul’s right hand found the mechanic’s chin quickly enough and brought him back up to plant a series of loving kisses on the beauty mark just above the left-hand corner of his mouth, his hands pulling at Daryl’s hips and easing him forward into the water while he slipped around behind the brawny man. Daryl leaned his head under the spray and moaned as those hands found his wide shoulders and then his lats and oblique muscles. Paul turned him back to face one another. 

“I love your body!” Paul’s voice came breathy and heavy with desire. Daryl gave in as Paul let his mouth and hands flow across Daryl’s barrel-wide chest, his lips and tongue working across the Superman emblem at the collarbone and over to the name over his beautiful hunter’s left breast before tantalizing each nipple, kissing and sucking the flesh as the droplets of water rolling down Daryl’s skin.

Daryl breathed hard as he noticed the sensation pause. A few seconds later, a soft cloth full of his favorite body wash stroked his torso in soothing circles. Paul’s bedroom eyes spoke volumes, the misty blue-green irises locking onto Daryl’s storm-blue eyes. Daryl moved back in to pick up where their kissing had left off, luxuriating in the thorough washing, even more excited to have Paul’s hand upon him, caressing him, loving him. Paul knelt to wash Daryl’s heavy sex and balls, the organ already well on its way to hard, like the thick, curved cock standing proudly between Paul’s thighs. Daryl allowed himself to be turned and rinsed down as Paul worked at his back and ass. When the hunter rotated back around, Paul hungrily engulfed Daryl’s throbbing length, taking him all the way to the base before slowly pulling back enough to roll his talented tongue around the head; he paid particular attention to Daryl’s frenulum, a tactic that made his gorgeous redneck’s jaw fall open in a heavy gasp. Daryl’s hands came up to stroke the sides of his little ninja’s face and his hips moved forward, prompted to motion by Paul’s hands on his ass.

“Turn!” came the sharp command from Paul. Daryl’s eyebrows shot up. That tone meant Paul was in an especially horny and aggressive mood. He looked down to watch as Paul licked the heavy drop of pre-come from the slit at the tip of Daryl’s magnificent cock. Daryl followed directions, that goddamned irresistible smile finding its way onto his face as he was pushed back under the spray by the force of Paul burying himself in the cleft of his muscular ass.

Paul smiled to himself as he heard Daryl’s groans of pleasure and felt his man shaking with anticipation, knowing good and well the sensations of his beard and the ministrations of his tongue were taking Daryl apart. He reached up between Daryl’s legs and wrapped his fingers around his handsome hunter’s shaft. Now that Daryl was completely hard, Paul couldn’t touch his thumb and forefinger together as he stroked the strapping man. Paul leaned back, popped a stinging smack on Daryl’s right glute, and gave another quick command. “Show me.”

Daryl made a startled, yet mirthful noise as he was pressed forward with his face and chest flat up against the cool tile, reaching his hands back behind himself to spread his cheeks and present his tight pucker to his man. Paul reached back and opened the lube next to the conditioner, huffing a small laugh to himself when he recalled the first time Daryl mixed it up for the conditioner while was rinsing shampoo from his vision. Paul slicked up his fingers and gently eased inside the tight ring of muscle. Daryl was so warm inside. By the time Paul was able to get two fingers inside, Daryl’s thigh started quivering.

“Holy fuck, baby!” Daryl panted.

“Soon,” Paul said, send another smack to the left ass cheek and rubbing it in before reach back up between Daryl’s legs and caressing his sac.

After three minutes, he was able to work a third finger inside, and Paul felt his magnificent man pushing back onto his hand with unrestrained enthusiasm. While the appeal of fingering Daryl to orgasm had its merits, Paul needed to express a deeper closeness with the man he loved more than anything. He slowly removed his fingers, much to Daryl’s moaning protests. Grabbing the lube again, Paul slicked his own impressive sex while leaning forward to reward Daryl’s patience with another tongue attack at his now-twitching hole. Then, he stood and lifted Daryl’s right leg, placing the taller man’s foot on the edge of the tub.

“Here we go.” Daryl immediately reached a hand back, stroked Paul’s steely length, and lined the head up with his entrance as he eased back, hungry and desperate to have Paul inside.

Paul took hold of Daryl’s right hip and slid a hand into the hunter’s wet hair, grabbing a fistful as the exposed head of his cock breached the star and found the warmth within. Daryl gave a loud growl and reached back to coax Paul in further.

“ _Fuuuuck_!” Daryl groaned.

Paul pushed in all the way to the base and held, letting Daryl get used to the stretch. He kissed the warring celestials on Daryl’s back and tongued at the old scars until he felt his handsome mechanic begin to move his hips. Slowly, Paul pulled back nearly halfway and thrust in again. He did this over and over watching the smile on Daryl’s face expand. Then he began fucking Daryl in earnest with long, deep strokes, nearly pulling all the way out before filling his love again and again. Paul increased his pace, and the slapping of hips to ass rose over the sound of the rushing water. Daryl craned his neck back, reaching for Paul, beckoning for his gorgeous lover’s tongue and lips.

“We better…hurry,” rasped Daryl; he sure didn’t want to. “God _damn_ , baby, so…so fucking good!”

Paul reached around to take Daryl’s huge cock in hand, stroking it in time to his thrusts. Daryl reached down and moved Paul’s hand, moving it up to his left pec.

“I love you, baby!” Paul cried, latching his teeth down on Daryl’s shoulder and sucking a love mark as his pace became frantic. From the corner of his eye, Daryl could see the tell-tale redness over Paul’s shoulders now matching his own coloring, a clear sign that they were both nearing orgasm.

Daryl tried not to cry out, wanting to keep the kids from hearing more than they needed to, but Paul’s amazing cock was too much. “Come in me, baby! Come in me!!! Ahh! Ahh! AHH! AHH!! AHH!!! AAHHHH!!!” 

When Paul’s fingers stroked along the cleft of Daryl’s hip, over the tattoo of his own name on the brawny mechanic’s hip, and down to the base of Daryl’s pulsing cock, white stars flooding his vision. Daryl’s heavy penis jerked over and over, spraying the tiles with nearly a dozen spurts and leaving him shuddering and feeling like he was made of jelly. 

Watching the blessed spectacle shot Paul over the edge to meet Daryl in mid-air. “Oh, god! Oh, god! Daryl—Daryl—HAH!!! FUCK!!! UHN!!! MMM!!! FUCK!!!” Paul emptied his heavy balls into the man who completed his existence with a series of deep, slow thrusts. As they came down, Daryl leaned against the shower wall for support, grinning like an idiot and shrugging his shoulders in a miniature version of a happy dance as Paul kissed his shoulders. The couple caught their breath together and relished in the continued connection. After a couple of minutes, Paul eased out, and Daryl turned around to pull Paul into his arms and kiss the life from his little ninja.

“You are _amazing_ , Superman,” professed Paul.

“You did all the hard work, Sunshine,” said Daryl. “You ready to go sleep in a blanket fort?”

Paul smiled up. “You know we’re gonna make great parents someday, right?” Daryl nodded and answered Paul by kissing him deeply, sucking Paul’s tongue in to sport with his own. 

They washed again, and Daryl mused, “That tank-less water heater I put in sure comes in handy when we fuck in here.” Paul grinned and chortled.

“Finally!” Judith said, when they emerged together, now clad in t-shirts and sleep pants. Carl gave them a knowing shake of the head. They also noticed that the television volume was turned up a bit higher than normal.

“You missed the Bang show!” informed Lil’ Ass-Kicker.

“No, I think they caught the Bang show, all right,” quipped Carl. Judith had no clue what the teen meant.

Paul coughed to cover his laugh, but Daryl just gave Carl a low-grade Dixon glare that belied the amusement underneath. Paul clicked at the puppies and Lucky to get them to follow him back to the kitchen. He also picked up Shadow along the way to put the kitten on his cat condo in the utility room. Once the animals were fed, watered, and walked for the night, Paul set to work with a quick project while Daryl found a movie for the family.

“Okay, guys!” called Paul. “Come get some dessert!”

Daryl followed the kids into the kitchen where Paul had made ice cream sandwiches out of a few of Carol’s cookies much to the delight of everyone. After dessert and a movie, Daryl gathered more pillows and everyone piled under the blanket fort. Judith made it through two storybooks—one read by Paul and another read by Daryl—but finally died out as the guys listened to a comedy podcast. Carl bid them goodnight and quietly made his way back to the guestroom. Daryl and Paul snuck out after, letting Lucky and the stuffed animals gather round Judith.

Bright and early on Saturday morning, the foursome met up with Merle, Carol, and Sophia for a big breakfast at The Mean Bean. One hour later, the group’s two vehicles parked in the large lot just off Boulevard next to Zoo Atlanta, and the family walked together to the front entrance. One of the ticket attendants scanned Paul’s phone and issued seven wristband tickets.

From there, Carl and Sophia checked the guide map while Judith held Daryl’s hand and tried following the various painted animal tracks on the sidewalk. Judith marveled at the flamingo, pink and pretty. Next, she fell in love with the giant pandas, getting her face next to the plexiglass partition.

“She looks like Shae!” Judith declared, pointing out the undeniable resemblance of Lun Lun to her stuffed animal.

“Look yonder at Lil’ Ass-Kicker,” Merle whispered to the other adults. “She’s dying to climb in there with ‘em and start gnawin’ on a one them bamboo reeds.”

Just as they were getting up from lunch and tossing their food wrappers, a huge roar carried out across the zoo. At first, Daryl had thought it came from the zoo’s PA system, but that changed when a second roar came rolling in.

“Dear lord!” Carol exclaimed. “What was that?”

“It has to be Shiva!” said Sophia.

“Yay! Shiva!” cried Judith.

“Is that our next stop?” Paul asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the little girl.

“Yes!” yelled Judith, taking a hand from Paul on her left and Daryl on her right. Everyone else followed along behind while Sophia read from the exhibit details on the map guide. 

“The offspring of two subspecies of Asian mainland tiger, Shiva is believed to be the largest recorded female tiger in the world, possessing mass and size consistent with that of a large male—over 700 lbs and just of 10 ft from nose to tail! Wow! This is so rare, it’s like meeting a woman who is nearly six and a half feet tall! As a juvenile, Shiva was injured in an accident at the National Zoo, nearly dying of blood loss before her resident handler risked his life to enter the exhibit and rescue her. Now, they’re practically inseparable. Where Shiva goes, so does her handler, Zeke. Please come see them today, and learn about more about these magnificent predators! Shiva is named after the Hindu god of the divine and destroyer of evil.”

Following the map once more, they made their way to the newest paddock. Beyond an open concrete pit drop was a grassy hill, a large wading pool with waterfall, and a big, simulated tree with large limbs for shade. Judith tugged at Daryl’s arm, and her uncle lifted her to a higher vantage point on his left hip. The tiger emerged quietly from behind the tree, her golden eyes sharp and unblinking as she peered across the divider. 

Judith hugged Daryl closer. “She’s not gonna eat us is she?”

“No, my little friend!” came the answer in a full, jovial voice. An African-American gentleman with the complexion of café au lait and perfect, straight white teeth in a brilliant smile, and iron-colored locks pulled back into a thick ponytail moved closer in front of the exhibit to address the gathering crowd. He looked back at Judith as said, “Shiva is a good soul, like you!” He looked to Daryl and extended his hand. “I’m Ezekiel, but most folks around here just call me Zeke. You have a lovely daughter.”

Daryl shook the man’s hand and nodded, then turned to make introductions. “Daryl Dixon, and this is my niece, Judith, my nephew Carl, my niece, Sophia.” The handler made his way around, shaking hands as Daryl went on. “This is my brother, Merle, and Sophia’s mom, Carol. And this is my partner, Paul—“ 

“ _Whaaaaat_???” Clearly Zeke had just recognized Paul, and the man’s voice jumped an octave. “I know you! Oh my god! Wow! Holy moly!” He reached out and took Paul’s hand, shaking it firmly. “In fact, I think everybody knows _you_!” It was true, people had been whipping out cellphones at every turn ever since they entered the zoo. “Sorry, guys. I just—I _love_ that show! And, you are _so awesome_ as Merlin! And, you and _Davy_? I tell you, man, that knocked me right outta my chair—in a good way! Say, do they need a tiger? ‘Cause I’m _really_ good with tigers, and I minored in theater in college. Lots of Shakespeare here.”

“I’ll mention it to Craig and the writers,” said Paul, beaming at the character. Zeke gave a full belly laugh.

“Sorry, man,” Zeke apologized to Daryl. “I had no idea that Jesus was your boyfriend—oh, don’t get me started with gansta Jesus and _Heisenberg_. Phenomenal!”

“Thanks, Zeke,” Paul said.

Daryl smiled and shook his head. “No worries, man. When you’re partner is on the hottest show on TV, there some things you just get used to.”

Zeke nodded in agreement and stepped back to start his presentation, giving fun facts about Shiva and tigers in general. At one point, the handler caught the tiger’s attention, made a distinct move and called out. The tiger bellowed a roar that got reactions of shock and awe from the crowd. Fifteen minutes later, Zeke finished his recitation and the group gathered closer to the edge of the paddock to take photos.

“Come with me,” Zeke whispered to Daryl and Paul. The family followed the keeper around to a metal security door at the back of the paddock. Zeke entered a code on the keypad and the electronic lock clicked. Zeke held open the door and ushered the family inside.

“It ain’t feedin’ time is it?” Merle joked.

“Shiva was fed this morning,” advised Zeke. “This way.” He led them into what appeared to be an observation area near a set of bars. Zeke took out a key and opened the door to the bars, entered, the closed it behind himself, checking to ensure that it was locked. “Please wait right here. We’ll be right back.” He opened the inner door that led into the tiger paddock and step through, leaving the door open.

“Is he--?” Carol started.

A moment later Shiva padded into the observation hold and stared at the people she found standing beyond the bars. Zeke stepped in behind her, walked right up, and crouched down on his feet before the deadly beast; the round of her shoulder stood higher than his head. Shiva blinked lazily and moved forward to rub the top of her head against her handler’s chest and chin.

“Whoa,” huffed Carl.

“Would you like to touch her?” asked Zeke, looking up at the group.

Carol’s eyebrows darted toward the ceiling and her eyes went wide. “Are you for real?”

“Oh, yes,” Zeke assured. “As long as I’m here, and you are polite, Shiva will allow it.”

Daryl nodded to Carl. “Be gentle.”

Carl walked over slowly and knelt. The tiger looked his way the back at Zeke before settling down against the bars. Watching Zeke’s nod of encouragement, Carl reached out and touched the tiger’s back, stroking the russet and black-striped fur. One after another, Sophia, Merle, and even Carol followed. Daryl sat next to Judith as she gently patted the tiger’s side as if the animal were made of tissue paper. Paul caught a picture at a good angle. Daryl, sitting closer to Zeke, helped her up and into Uncle Merle’s arms as Paul knelt down. The two of them petted the tiger and she started making a rolling, rhythmic sound deep in her throat.

“Tigers don’t purr like other cats,” Zeke explained. “This is called a chuff. It means she’s happy.”

“That’s a good girl,” Daryl whispered.

The tiger shifted and stretched her head to rub against Daryl’s hand.

“Congratulations, Daryl,” Zeke said. “She doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

The tiger rubbed at Daryl’s hand again, and Carl caught a good picture of it. Zeke returned Shiva to the paddock and secured the observation area before escorting the family back into the main zoo. 

By 4:00 in the afternoon, they had seen all of the exhibits and shopped for souvenirs. Judith was nearly wiped out, riding up on Merle’s shoulders. Daryl hadn’t gotten on the interstate good before she was fast asleep in her child seat. Carl went with Sophia, Carol, and Merle as the teens were planning to go meet friends at the movies and hang around the mall in Newnan later that evening.

When they got home, Daryl carried the sleeping girl inside, took off her shoes, and tucked her into the guest bed while Paul let the dogs out and changed out the puppy pads. That night, Judith helped Paul make hamburgers before bath time. Then, she and Daryl played a couple of rounds of Candyland. Once Judith was asleep in the blanket fort, the two men made their way back to their bedroom.

Daryl walked into the bedroom from the master bathroom’s vanity area and a smile formed on his face upon finding Paul lying on his stomach under the covers propped up on his elbows. Paul’s hair was pulled over to his left shoulder, and the beautiful actor looked back over his right shoulder to watch Daryl enter the room, his own small smile was inviting. Daryl smirked and dropped to all fours, crawling to the bed and doing a passable imitation of chuffing like a tiger. Paul moved his hips up and down, chuckling silently to himself as Daryl untucked the sheets at the bottom of the bed and began to move up under the covers to find Paul. He had made it up on top of his gorgeous actor, whispering about how he want to be inside of Paul, when a sleepy little voice asked a question.

“Why are you wrestling?”

“ _Whoa_!” said Daryl, sliding out from under the covers. Fortunately they both still had on sleep pants. The mechanic sat on the bed and addressed Judith. “Hey, sugar lump.”

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

Daryl tilted his head and stifled a frustrated sigh. “You don’t wanna sleep in your awesome blanket fort with Lucky and Huggy and Poppy? What about Pudgy-Wudgy? Won’t they all be sad without you?”

“They can sleep in here too,” Judith proposed, kid logic overwhelming child psychology.

Daryl felt the bed shaking with Paul’s silent laughter as Coach’s words came back to haunt them. He was trapped by the cuteness of a four-year old.

“Of course you can, baby,” Paul confirmed. “Go get them, and c’mon up here with us.”

Judith had her animals in the bed between Daryl and Paul in less than 45 seconds. Lucky got to sleep on the floor. At 1:00 AM, Daryl woke Paul, and the pair slipped away to the guest room, leaving Judith sound asleep, safe and sound.

In the meantime, Daryl proceeded to make love to Paul, fucking him long and slow in several positions and kissing each other deeply as Daryl brought Paul to another orgasm, releasing hard and furiously between them as Daryl flooded his perfect partner inner warmth. When they were cleaned up, they returned to the master bed and slept until just after dawn, a safe border of family for Lil’ Ass-Kicker.

Sunday morning, the couple showered and dressed, then woke Judith and got her ready for church. The Second Baptist Congregational Church stood about one mile due east of Senoia, and Pastor Stokes had guided the little group through some tumultuous changes. First, the church building had been a new Grace Assembly brought to ruin by pastoral mischief and administrative mismanagement. Now, the congregation was an amalgamation of off-shoot members of First Baptist, First Presbyterian, Calvary Community, and Father Gabriel’s original church, Saint Sarah’s Episcopal Church, along with a generous bunch of wealthy Universal Unitarians to put things right. Now, it was a thriving fellowship that exuded “community spirit through fostering positive relationship with the Almighty,” to use Father Gabriel’s words.

Dr Greene, an elder deacon at the church, beamed alongside his wife as he watched his sons unbuckle Judith from the safety seat. The little girl had on her puffy coat over her adorable Sunday dress. Paul had even managed to get her curls up into a cute ballerina bun. Father Gabriel’s spiritual message was one of holding hope when faced with adversity. Judith went to a children’s service geared specially for younger members and run by a darling lady by the name of Tammy Rose Sutton. A kindergarten teacher for most of her life, Mrs Sutton had never met a child she didn’t adore, and Judith Grimes was no exception.

After church, the couple and Judith met up with the Greene family, and the Dixon-Peletiers for a big family brunch over at _First Watch_. That afternoon, Paul made sure to check with Carl just in case he had any homework he needed to finish before school the next day; it was a good thing he had, because as it turned out, Carl still had half a page of Algebra problems to solve.

After dinner of French onion soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, Rick and Michonne showed up to pick up the kids. Judith and Carl told all about Shiva and their wonderful weekend with their uncles.

Carl stripped the guest bed, picked up his and Judith towels and washcloths, and brought the linens back to the laundry room. He also stopped to thank his uncles before hugging them and heading out to get Judith’s car seat. Judith hugged her uncles tight and gave them each a peck before getting Lucky’s leash and taking her out to walk beyond the driveway before they loaded up and headed home. 

With the Grimes family gone, Daryl swept Paul over and kissed him soundly. “Thanks for putting up with our family all weekend.”

“I love our family,” declared Paul. “And I love you. You really are Superman to all of us.”

“Pfft,” Daryl scoffed. “You think so?”

Paul nodded. “Feel like helping me break down a blanket fort?”

Daryl smirked and got a kiss. When everything was set into Paul’s car to go to the cleaners the next day, Daryl cleaned up the kitchen and sent Paul to soak in the hot tub, joining him when the kitchen sparkled again.

The following weekend, they attended a Superbowl party at Merle’s, where they were sure to point out to Negan that they were more than capable of getting around a four-year old. On Thursday of that week, the pair flew to New Orleans and boarded a massive cruise ship full of Death Ascendant fans for what was basically a convention on the ocean. Connor and Jeffrey had staterooms right next to Paul and Daryl with Elanna and Russ on the other side. The first day was a flurry of photo ops and Q & A panels. That night, Paul and Russ found themselves conscripted into karaoke. Daryl loved watching these interactions. Here, people were the right kind of fans; they loved Paul for his talent, his beauty, his positive attitude, and his genuine appreciation for them and the opportunities he’d been lucky enough to get. There was a highly vocal _Derlin_ crowd, too. Paul was elated to see a pair of printed t-shirts worn by fans of himself and Daryl that read: New Cast Suggestion? Daryl would slay all day!

After sitting with Elanna and Russ for two different back-to-back podcast interviews, Paul and several other cast members took over the main bar during night party, taking orders, serving drinks, and enjoying hanging out with the fans. Daryl was his favorite customer, and the mechanic could tell that bartending had been one of Paul’s favorite jobs from the time when he was trying to break into acting. 

On Saturday, they toured the Bahamas and took in some beach time. For Sunday’s final leg of the cruise, Paul had meet-and-greet sessions, selfies, and autograph ops with fans. Several people even brought him small, thoughtful gifts; Daryl can see that his beautiful man is especially touched by the efforts of cosplay and the displays of fan art into which fans have poured countless amounts of time, talent, and heartfelt kindness. On Sunday evening, they gathered with the cast and fans in the massive stern entertainment venue to watch the mid-season opener. _While Mick and Michelle look for allies to defeat Waylon and his Crusaders, Davy must be hidden away for his own safety. Thanks to Merlin, all of this may be possible as he leads the survivors to “The Duchy” and introduces them to Duke Jeremiah and his panther, Kali, just in the Grissom family’s hour of need._

“Hey, does he remind you of someone?” Paul asked.

Daryl chuckled and said, “I think some goddamn comic book writers have been to the zoo in Atlanta, that’s for damn sure!”

Hearing Mick’s affirmation of acceptance to his best friend drew tears and sympathy from the viewers. Seeing Merlin take out five Crusader spies, steal back Davy’s bow, and sneak back in to the Duchy to steal a tender moment alone with Davy brings near deafening roar of cheers from the audience dwarfed only when Connor and Paul hug and give each other a kiss on the cheek as the credits are rolling.

Poor Connor had to wear seasickness wristbands most of the trip. Daryl needed to use one the first night when he felt a little queasy from some rougher seas; the fact that we wore Wayfarers and shirts with the sleeves ripped out only added to his being mistaken for Connor by fans more often than not. Someone even told him his Davy cosplay game was “on fleek.”

On Monday, the couple took a flight from New Orleans to Miami to border another ship. This one was an all-gay cruise that went to the Virgin Islands. Aside from some blatant flirting from a few fans and a few lusty stares, the couple maneuvered the tour like any other couple. Paul’s favorite moment happened on while they were walking along the beach on St Croix. While they were coming out of the water after snorkeling, Paul found a sand-dollar along the shore in a tide pool.

“Here,” Daryl said. “Let’s take it back to its home.” The big man gently lifted the creature and walked it back to into the ocean before donning his fins and mask. They swam back our farther and located a nice sandy stretch for the little thing.

“What?” Daryl asked when they got back out of the water and Paul was looking at him, smiling wide.

“That was pretty damn cool,” Paul answered honestly.

Daryl shrugged and took off his fins again. Paul looked so hot in those new fitted trunks. “A sand-dollar saved my life one time.”

Paul looked perplexed. Daryl told him the story from twenty years before. “The way I figure it, that might be one of its great-grand young’uns or something. I know it sounds corny, but—“

Paul had his lips on Daryl’s. The moment was beautiful and still with just the sound of waves and happy heartbeats. “That’s beautiful.” He kissed over Daryl’s heart. “So is this.”

Daryl took a deep breath and lifted Paul’s hand, his forefinger and thumb playing with the actor’s ring finger. “You reckon it’s time to order those custom rings the jeweler told us about?”

Paul nodded back. “I sure do. Let’s get my phone.”

The return to the cold of King County was a sharp contrast to the tropical climate the boys had been enjoying, but it couldn’t be helped. Paul and Daryl shared secret smiles about the rings. Daryl’s only concern had been his work as a mechanic. He and Paul elected to get small initials of each other tattooed on their ring fingers.

With the Paris trip right upon them all, Merle was a bundle of nerves. On the day of the trip, just after a staff meeting, Daryl took Merle into his office and closed the door. Then, he spoke to his big brother, calling him by a nickname the elder Dixon hadn’t heard in well over three decades.

“Murly?” said Daryl. “Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s got you so wound up?”

Merle snorted and paced. Finally, he bit the bullet and blurted out his fear. “Daryl, what if she says no?”

Daryl nodded and continued, “Would you still want to be with her if she just wanted things to stay the same?”

“Of course I would,” declared Merle, his tone clear that there was nothing that could change how he felt about Carol and Sophia.

“Then it don’t matter if she says no,” Daryl advised. “But Murly?” Merle looked up to see the look on his little brother’s face. “She’s gonna say yes.”

Merle nodded.

“You know I’m right,” Daryl said.

“She tell you that?” inquired Merle. He knew how close Daryl and Carol were, and if she were likely to tell anyone other than him, it would be Daryl.

“Naw, man,” answered Daryl. “She doesn’t have to. I just know her pretty good.”

Merle huffed a laugh and smiled, his good humor returning. “How ‘bout things on the home front with you and Hollywood?”

Daryl looked up at his brother through the fringe of his hair and smiled crookedly. “We ain’t officially asked each other, but the last day in St Croix we ordered rings.”

“ _Holy shit_!” Merle exclaimed.

“Don’t worry,” Daryl assured. “We ain’t gonna steal your spotlight. Paris is all about you and Carol, ‘cause we love y’all.”

“Back at cha, man,” Merle said, crushing Daryl in a bear hug.

“But I got my game plan for when I’m gonna ask him,” Daryl confided to his brother. “Now, get to work. We gotta be outta here by one to flight out by ten tonight. Jet lag can be a bitch!”

“Listen at you, Darlina! I fuckin’ love it!”

Daryl gave his brother the middle finger and got back to work. When Daryl got home that night, Dr Greene was at the house. He knew the man was coming to check the puppies and to take one to Maggie and Glenn. Both men stood in the kitchen looking grave.

“Hey,” Daryl greeted. “Is something wrong with the dogs?”

Hershel nodded. “The blood work came back. Testing shows that these dogs are hybrids. Specifically shepherd, Dane making up nearly half their genetics.”

“And the rest?” asked Daryl.

“Canis Lupus Occidentalis,” Dr Greene answered. “More commonly known as a Mackenzie Valley Wolf. They are the presently the largest recorded species of wolf. Whoever crossed these animals was trying to build monsters.” The vet turned back to Paul. “Son, you know I don’t want to have to.”

“I know, Daddy,” sighed Paul.

Daryl looked confused.

“State law doesn’t allow for the ownership of hybrid dogs,” Paul said. He looked deflated, and Daryl stepped over to let Paul his head on the mechanic’s shoulder. One of the puppies—Ivan, with the icy grey eyes—bounded over to sniff at Daryl’s work boots.

“Doc,” Daryl started. “Do ya have to put the little boogers _down_?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Lucky again,” said Paul, his voice breaking.

Hershel thought to himself for a minute. “Technically, the law says that they cannot be owned as pets.” Hershel picked up Ragnar from where he was on the kitchen tile, rolling on his back with his tongue lolling out and Shadow swatting playfully at the pup’s wagging tail. Daryl noticed Attila was in the puppy box, gnawing on a chewy ring toy. Hershel continued with his train of thought. “However, if they were designated as research animals, I might be able to get them logged as part of the canine behavior study at the college.”

Paul perked up and looked at his father. “However,” Dr Greene said, “Understand that my ass will be grass if they attack someone unprovoked, or if they contract rabies and pass it along. You’ll need to carry significant insurance on them.”

Paul hugged his father and the pup. “We will, Daddy.”

“I’ll get this rolling while you fellas are in Europe,” the vet assured. He stepped back and put Ragnar back down. “And Beth will stay here with the animals while y’all are gone. I’m gonna talk to Maggie and Glenn. That’s my grandchild, and even if Ivan is cute and adorable now, he’s gonna be huge before we know it. They need extensive training and bonding with the owners and all associates.”

Daryl kissed Paul’s temple; they could tell Hershel had more to add.

“Now listen here,” said Dr Greene. “I wouldn’t even consider this except for two facts: one, that I believe in the behavioral and emotional capacity these animals possess based on how much you fellas will love a nurture them, and two, because my family—specifically my sons—have been threatened and need protection beyond owning a gun. I can already see how much these pups mean, and I swore long ago not to kill an animal if I could help it live a quality life in which it would be loved and cared for. If it weren’t these dogs, I’d recommend getting an Akita or a Kuvasz based on intelligence and guardian instincts, but as it is, I believe they’ll do. They haven’t torn up anything?”

Daryl shook his head. “They’ve stuck to their toys. Ain’t ever tore up a puppy pad or scratched at a door. Lucky did that, but they hadn’t learned to do it. They stay out of the bedrooms. Maybe they can teach Shadow that trick.”

“Good luck with that,” Hershel chortled. The veterinarian gathered up his travel kit and looked to the couple again. “Well, my Sons, you two should work on maintaining that,” confirmed Dr Greene. “You work with these dogs, and they’ll be some of the smartest and best companions you’ll ever know.”

“We will,” Daryl guaranteed.

The next day, found them all waking on a plane as they descended into Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. The City of Light was waking and bustling. Merle asked Carol if she thought he needed to show the driver how to navigate these crazy round-about circles since the French versions didn’t always bother with traffic lines.

The suites at La Réserve Hotel and Spa had a combination of classical elegance and modern comfort. Sophia’s birthday dinner turned out to be a splendid affair including a picnic along the Champs-Élysées, sight-seeing at the Eiffel Tower and L’Arc de Triomphe, and a whirlwind shopping extravaganza. Sophia’s favorite spots were Lemonade and Merci, of course. Wednesday, they visited the Louvre and tried lots of local cuisine. Merle’s new favorite turned out to be escargot. The big man claimed that anything cooked in that much butter and garlic had to be fantastic, and it was! A tour of Versailles took up the following day—Valentine’s Day—and a trip through Burgundy’s wine country was perfect for the following Friday. Saturday, Paul took Daryl and Sophia to Panic at the Disco, who happened to be one of Sophia’s favorites.

When they returned later that night, Merle and Carol were still waiting up; on her left ring finger was a brilliant engagement ring of a sizeable princess-cut diamond and three smaller emerald-cut stones to each side on a band gold. They couple had come over to their suite to make their announcement. With great jubilation, Daryl popped open two bottles of champagne—nearly have a stroke the next day when Paul told him they were €3000 each—and even Sophia was tipsy by the evening’s end, making crazy selfies with everyone that involved unlit cigarettes, Daryl’s Wayfarers, and her new chapeau.

The late the next morning, they took the train to London, and checked in to the Shangri-La Hotel at the Shard. It took a couple of minutes, but the Dixon brothers eventually came around to the concept of having a butler for each of their suites. The wall to ceiling windows afforded the most spectacular view of the city. Daryl thoroughly enjoyed what he and Paul did that night up against those windows.

After spending three days exploring London, they made a trip to Salisbury Plain to visit Stonehenge. The next day, Paul arranged for a train to Edinburgh, Scotland and drove up to Portlethen Village just south of Aberdeen. When they arrived, they met a woman named Pamela, at a small church with a graveyard.

“Okay,” Paul started. “I know I probably should have asked first, but I wanted it to be a good surprise, and I hope that it is. I know that family is important to you, and that back home, you haven’t always been given the fair chance when it came to the family name, but one generation’s mistakes and pain, doesn’t mean the name isn’t worth knowing.”

Daryl and Merle both blinked. Carol held Sophia close and put an arm around Paul. Both Dixon brothers could smell the collusion in the air as clear as the sea salt of the nearby ocean.

“I’m in on this too,” Carol confessed. “Pamela is here from the University of Aberdeen. She’s the head of the genealogical archives, and she’s found our family.”

Pamela nodded. “Your family have been here in various lines for generations, and I believe your great-great-great grandparents, Robert and Ellen Dixon, are buried here in this old cemetery.” Pamela had everyone gather around the back of her tiny, faded-yellow, station wagon and look at the copies of the documents she had discovered, showing birth records, weddings, and family lineages. “Robert Dixon once owned the property southeast of the church to the ocean. He was a blacksmith and had two wives. His first wife, Una, died of pneumonia only a short time after they were married, but his second wife, Greer, had seven sons and two daughters.” She pulled a rolled canvas rubbing kit and four large sheets of vellum from the back of the vehicle. “Would you like to find their gravesites, Daryl?”

Daryl nodded, and took the kit and set out into the graveyard holding Paul’s hand. After searching for nearly twenty minutes, Merle called out. Daryl and Paul rushed over. Pamela took a small spray bottle of soapy water from the kit and gently cleaned the gravestones. Carol and Sophia carefully rolled out the vellum and Daryl and Merle each took a turn with the charcoal sticks, so that each Dixon had a copy of their great-great-great-grandparent’s grave markers. Pamela carefully rolled the parchments and placed them in a document tube. She even signed and certified a label on the end. Afterward, the family walked along south of the church to the edge of the cliffs. Down below, massive waves collided against the hard rocks, spraying foam and brine into misty clouds. 

Daryl hugged Paul close. “You’re too goddamn much, you know that? What made you do all this?”

Paul looked up and brushed the hair out of the way of his glorious hunter’s eyes, the very deep blue of the cold sea that lay out beyond them now. “I just figured—and Carol agreed with me,” Paul began. “If we’re going to take your names, then we don’t want you, or Merle either one, thinking that your family name means anything less because of how your father was, what he did, and how he treated you. His ghost is gone, and you’ve both been so hard on yourselves because of him, even having had to build a new family who love you no matter what, the way it’s supposed to be, with baked goods and family gatherings and blanket forts.” Paul wiped the tears from his own cheeks. “So when Carol takes Merle’s name as her own, when I take _yours_ , I just want you to know that I know what it means and that because it’s part of you…”

 ** _“It means something good.”_** The ride nearly tore itself from the tracks, and neither man could fathom how they were on the ground, rolling over and over, laughter, tears, and kisses bringing new shine to a name too long scorned.

One month and one fan convention—Daryl thoroughly enjoyed their trip to Berlin, including the beer—later, clustering crowds of thrill-seekers, moving along under the bright blue sky on the first day of Spring on opening day at Six Flags over Georgia, stared and pointed here and there at the two men in the sleeveless biker vests with the white angel wings on their backs, weaving through the throngs of people to get on the _Sky Buckets_ together; Daryl was learning to ignore the recognition that hit the majority of the people around them ever since Paul and he had strode up to the front gates hand-in-hand. As they settled into the seat next to each other, Daryl reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. He nearly lost his ability to breathe when Paul pulled out his own matching velvet box.

“Paul…” Daryl swallowed hard before he could continue. “You walked into my life and it’s given me everything and more. I love you more and more every day, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” 

“Daryl,” said Paul. “I never thought I would meet someone as genuine, as loving, as handsome, and as perfect as you.” It was the beautiful actor’s turn to swallow hard. “You’re my Superman, and I never want to be without you by my side ever again.” He opened the box; Daryl did the same. Inside each sat a platinum and black titanium men’s engagement band inset with six diamonds and crenelated to link together with the wedding bands that were part of the custom set. Paul took one of the rings and looked back at Daryl. Daryl did the same, and they slid the slid on each other’s fingers.

 ** _“Paul Rovia/Daryl Dixon, will you please marry me?”_** The roller coaster came off the rails, and the riders began to fly on their own.

**_“Fuck! Yes!”_ **


	20. Raven Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Daryl make plans and celebrate their engagement with friends and family. Meanwhile, the poor judgment of others make it necessary to enact serious changes, and Daryl's patience is tested. Trivia ends with a discussion about the newcomers in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but school work comes first. I hope you enjoy. There's some light smut and plenty of fluffy feels for you as well. Thank you for your comments; they are always appreciated and writer's fuel. Happy reading XOXO

Daryl lay awake in the dark of the bedroom, looking over at his sleeping fiancé. Paul’s face was serenity incarnate; his breathing was slow and steady, a full-on recharging that the young man needed after their last round. Daryl could still picture his amazing angel, hair sticking to his sweat-soaked face and neck, the muscles of his arms and chest gleaming as Paul held Daryl’s legs up and apart by the ankles, rolling his narrow hips as he pumped his long magnificent phallus into the mechanic hard and fast, running the head and shaft of his cock over and over Daryl’s prostate at the perfect angle, making his gorgeous mechanic cry out his name and come forcefully, peppering both their chests and stomachs in hot, blissful come before releasing within. It could also be attributed to the fact that, when they’d first entered the house, Daryl had all but torn off their clothing, pulled Paul down into a mutual suck-fest on the rug in the laundry room floor, and then carried a panting Paul back toward the bedroom, only to have to stop and take him mercilessly right there on the sofa. He licked his lips, relishing the taste and the memory of having lapped up his beautiful actor’s copious release from where it had landed all the way up the man’s body to pool in the hollow of Paul’s throat, between his pectorals, and within the slight indentation of his navel; Paul’s cock had been in the final spasms still when Daryl came so deeply inside his little ninja that the mechanic thought he might pass out. That fact Paul had rebounded afterward, taken over, and then transformed Daryl to a quivering mess less than twenty minutes later in their bed was no shock to the redneck at all anymore. The two men barely had the energy to shower. Now, a couple of hours later, Daryl woke, watching his beautiful actor sleep and feeling happy and excited about the future as he fingered the ring on his left hand and looked at the matching ring on Paul’s. 

By god, Daryl nearly laughed as he sensed himself growing hard as steel again, and from what he felt against his hip and stomach, so was Paul. His beautiful actor lay with his head on a pillow resting over Daryl’s bicep; silky hair lay tucked behind his ear, and Paul’s hands rested peacefully between Paul’s face and Daryl’s neck. The pair were entangled, Paul’s left thigh nestled in between Daryl’s thighs, feet resting against the backs of calf muscles. Daryl eased back the cover. Paul’s cock thrummed in time to his lover’s heartbeat, tapping a gentle rhythm at the bottom of the hunter’s ribs. He reached down between them and carefully adjusted the angle of his own girder-stiff penis, feeling the wetness of his pre-come as his foreskin drew back.

He was very much ready again, but Daryl knew the day had worn Paul out. Hell, if he could get his own mind to calm down, Daryl would probably succumb to exhaustion himself. After all, it was nearly dawn, and they did have Sunday brunch with the entire family at half past noon. Thankfully, Paul had possessed the good sense enough to call ahead and make arrangements the minute they got off the bucket ride at the amusement park. Well, it was actually after he and Daryl stopped kissing, having ridden the lift ride back and forth several times over the center of the park while they made out and wiped away the tears of old pain and new happiness. When the ride attendants tried to open the door, Daryl waved them away, never letting the pair be interrupted.

Paul gave a tiny, breathy moan as his cock slid along Daryl’s stomach and found his own hard answer. Daryl tried not to wake his sleeping beauty, but the young man shifted and their cocks touched, Paul suddenly inhaled through his nose and blinked open his eyes to see Daryl looking back. Paul bent forward and their lips met, soft and warm and loving.

“You okay, Superman?” whispered Paul, once he pulled back from the kiss.

“Mm-hmm,” intoned Daryl, sealing the sounds with a kiss to Paul’s brow. He knew Paul was waiting for him to say more. “I’m just—I’m just excited and antsy about everything, y’know?”

“Mm-hmm. Me too.”

“Why don’t we try and get some more sleep?” Daryl suggested.

Paul moved his hands down and found their straining erections. “First things first.” He shifted to lay Daryl on his back.

“C’mon now, Sunshine,” Daryl protested. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I know you’re tired. You ain’t gotta—“ The feeling of Paul’s talented mouth taking him in elicited an involuntary groan and made Daryl’s head fall back, cutting off the objection and bringing him to life. 

Paul eased himself up, straddled Daryl’s hips, and put a finger to Daryl’s lips. “Baby, I’m horny,” Paul said, voice sultry and a twinkle a mischief in those incredible eyes. Daryl shook his head, and smiled back. Paul rolled his hips, rubbing their dicks more intensely. 

“Well, then,” Daryl rasped, his voice serious and intense as he kissed Paul’s fingers and sat up to meet his gorgeous man. “I reckon I better see to that.”

The mischief vanished from Paul’s face, and he their members twitched hard in reaction to one another. Paul reached up and cradled Daryl’s face in his hands, locking eyes with his magnificent man before adding, “I think so.” Once more they were on each other like a shot, Paul guiding Daryl’s wrist-thick member into his tight channel and holding onto the padded headboard for dear life while Daryl drove up into him.

After they’d come once more, Paul lay loving draped over Daryl, the two of them watching the sky lighten through the sheer curtains before dawn’s golden-orange rays bathed the backyard. The azaleas and the cherry blossom, and dogwood trees in the yards were starting to bloom. Daryl snuck away long enough to let the dogs outside, giving them their commands and reinforcing their good behavior. He came back in, shucked off his sleep pants, removed his t-shirt—Daryl putting on or taking off a pullover t-shirt was this seemingly impossible flash of a move over incredible shoulders that always amazed Paul—and crawled back in bed to warm up. Paul shifted up to lie on top of his handsome hunter once more.

“We are gonna be sore as _fuck_ today,” said Paul, giggling at the thought before kissing the new heart tattoo on Daryl’s sternum, commemorating their trip to Scotland.

“It’s a good sore, though,” agreed Daryl as he squeezed his glorious man closer, splaying Paul’s hair out to feel it on his skin. He gently stroked Paul’s back.

**_“You make me so happy.”_** The world twisted right, and they stopped kissing and came to rest with Daryl spooned up behind Paul, inhaling the perfect scent of Paul’s hair that gave him peace.

Paul’s lips on his right nipple woke Daryl. “Baby, it’s after eleven. We fell back to sleep for over four hours. We better get ready to meet everybody.”

Daryl stretched in bed and rocked up; his triceps bulged as he sat up, leaned an arm behind his back to support himself, and looked at his fiancé, taking in Paul’s perfect features, naked and bold. Paul’s smile showed perfect white teeth and plump, pink lips, the very ones that did things to Daryl he’d never dreamed possible and beyond just the unearthly erotic prowess, but including the finishing of each other’s thoughts and expressing feelings that made the hunter feel alive and drowned in pure, fathomless happiness. Daryl leaned in and kissed those lips, breaking only to let Paul rest their foreheads together.

“You said you want my name,” Daryl thought aloud. “I ain’t never thought anybody would. Can I take yours too?”

Paul’s eyebrows rose as he leaned back to look at his perfect partner. “You mean like hyphenate our names? Rovia-Dixon, maybe?”

“That’s what I figured. Unless you think it’s too cheesy or whatever,” Daryl backpedaled. “I mean, we ain’t gotta decide right this second.”

“Dixon-Rovia,” Paul said, the amalgamated surname ringing out with perfect finality. Paul looked into Daryl’s eyes, searching. “Well? Do you like it?”

“I fuckin’ love it,” Daryl admitted.

“I can wait to have them change it on the show’s opening credits,” declared Paul, smiling back and kissing him again. “Do we know when Merle and Carol are having a ceremony?”

“Carol said June the fifteenth,” said Daryl. “She said they ain’t wastin’ no time, and she don’t want no big fancy to-do, just a simple ceremony and a nice party after. Merle’s the once spending big on the honeymoon to Hawaii.” Daryl looked down at the sheet gathered between his legs. He fiddled with the edge of the soft, white cloth with his right thumb and forefinger.

“Okay,” Paul said, shifting closing and putting a finger and thumb below his beautiful fiancé’s chin to get Daryl to meet his eyes again, to recognize that his desires were more than important in this. “What do you want?”

Daryl gave a crooked smile and shrugged. “I want you to be happy. I know your folks will want us to…” He trailed off at Paul’s shaking head.

“I’m happy just going down to the King County Courthouse and jumping the broom on the front steps,” declared Paul. “I want to know what you want, Superman, because making your dreams come true is a big fucking part of my life from here on out. Okay?”

Daryl swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” He tried to bite his bottom lip to keep the smile away, but it didn’t help, not with Paul looking at him, loving him.

“So, when do _you_ wanna get married?” Paul asked.

Daryl nodded and thought for a couple of minutes in silence. Paul didn’t rush him. “Carol makes a good point about not wastin’ time,” Daryl mused. “That’s already kinda been our process, so why don’t we just follow suit? I don’t mean a double-wedding or nothing like that—I’d rather them have their own thing and us ours—but a little ceremony and a big party after. You know Father Gabriel is dying to make us his next gay wedding.”

Paul nodded and chortled. “Your birthday is in July,” he said. “So, how about we get married sometime around the next to last weekend in August? With work, I know I can get away long enough to get married, but we might have to wait until the mid-season break to go on a trip. It’s probably best if we plan on taking the last three weeks of January to go off on a honeymoon.”

Daryl gave an excited exhale at the word honeymoon. This wasn’t lost on Paul at all. Not. One. Bit.

“Would that be okay?” inquired Paul.

“As long as I can steal you away for a long weekend right after our wedding,” Daryl agreed. “Maybe go down to Savannah or Sea Island? St Simon’s?”

It was Paul’s turn to breathe out and smile. “I’ll call the production team and make it happen.” Daryl kissed him twice and ran a finger over the ring on Paul’s finger.

Paul huffed a laugh, rose up, and pulled Daryl along with him into the shower. Daryl seemed lost in thought and sensation as they washed each other. Once teeth were brushed and mouths rinsed, they dressed smartly: Daryl, in dark grey linen button up shirt and indigo jeans that accentuated his physique, and Paul, wearing a tailored ecru dress shirt with a pair of light blue denim jeans that Daryl appreciated very much. Paul grabbed his phone and fired off a text to let Eric know they might be just a tiny bit late. Then, Paul awakened his laptop and placed it up on the counter where his handsome, strapping fiancé stood, fiddling with his truck keys and looking like a god, even though Daryl never thought so.

Paul opened the browser and pulled up several sites. “Okay, so last question for us to think about is _where_ we want to go on our honeymoon. You seem to be enjoying the traveling we’ve been doing, so here are some places we might considered, based on their LGBTQ friendliness. Um…yeah. So, Russia, Jamaica, and the entire Middle East, most of northern Africa, and many of the islands are out—no thank you! That’s unfortunate, but I don’t go where I’m not wanted and it’s illegal to fuck my man. That reminds me: We also have to stay somewhere else when we’re in LA again.”

Daryl scowled and snorted. “I ain’t interested in none of them places anyway.” 

As Paul scrolled through picture options and description over the next couple of minutes, something caught Daryl’s attention: blue water the color of Paul’s eyes. “Wait—go back! There. That looks like a right nice get-away,” he mused.

Paul’s smile lit up the room. “It sure does,” he replied. “My man digs the beach.”

“Mm-hmm, so does mine. Where is that?” asked Daryl, slipping his arms around his beautiful actor’s waist and resting his chin on Paul’s right shoulder.

“ _That_ would be French Polynesia in the South Pacific,” Paul answered simply, shifting the laptop, and turning around in Daryl’s powerful arms to face his brawny fiancé. “And nothing in this world would please me more than to take you on a fantastic honeymoon to Bora Bora. Sun, white sand beaches, a suite on a lagoon of the most beautiful water in the world, and look here: a private hammock ten meters from the overlook.”

“Holy fuck!” exclaimed Daryl, looking at the prices. “Is that a _hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars a night_?” He started to protest further when Paul slipped back around.

“No, Superman,” the actor assured. “That’s in French Pacific Francs. They’re worth a little less than a penny each, so that’s about fifteen hundred a night on the most expensive nights. I’ll get a better price booking through our favorite travel agency. I _cannot_ thank Yumiko and Magna enough for getting us all such great accommodations in Europe. I’ll bet they can put us up at a beach rental on Tybee Island for after the wedding and book two weeks at the Saint Regis in Bora Bora for late January.”

Paul pulled up a calendar and his email app and started typing. “Okay, baby. The wedding will be Saturday, August twenty-fourth, with a trip to Savannah and Tybee Island for the weekend, coming back Tuesday the twenty-seventh. Then our big honeymoon trip will be January eleventh through February second. Does this meet with your approval?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Daryl, kissing Paul’s neck. “We need to thank Aaron and Eric for the referral.”

He watched as Paul fired off the request to their travel agents. Once Paul had the laptop closed, he kissed Daryl once more for good measure, and they left the house to meet their friends.

_Barrington House_ had just started a Sunday brunch back in January, and now, it attracted a rather sizeable amount of people to the town square in Senoia. When the pair pulled up, they found their friends waiting outside with several dozen others. Gracie kept everyone entertained in her little blue gingham dress, warm, white turtleneck, and navy tights with her adorable beige and tan suede saddle oxford shoes.

Dr Greene and Ms Annette went inside with Maggie, Glenn, and Hershel, Jr. Beth, Zach, Shawn, and his girlfriend Addy followed suit. Merle and Carol arrived with Rick and Michonne just ahead of Shane and Lori and the kids. Andrea and Phillip were sitting on a bench next to Dwight and Sherry, talking about a new zoning project. Tara and Denise, and Arat and Laura, Aaron, Eric, and Gracie, Jared and Alden, Negan and Frankie, and Eugene and Olivia stood milling around, laughing, and conversing with one another. Father Gabriel pulled with Abraham and Rosita, and Sasha, Bob, Tyreese, and Karen rounded out the family crowd while Cesar, Nabila and Jerry, Axel, Patrick and Benjamin, T-Dog and the Morales family and the rest of Daryl’s work family mingled among them all. Heath appeared, informed the party that their room was ready, and led the way to the banquet buffet. 

“Gregory, thank you so much for doing this for us!” Paul told the owner as they caught the man aside. “I know it was really short notice.”

Gregory, sweat beading atop his thinning pate and brow and now donning a dark green apron with the sleeves of his light blue shirt rolled up past the elbows, turned and grinned conspiratorially to his two favorite customers. “Not a problem, guys. You two have helped us put this place on the map, for god’s sake,” Gregory declared. “So when you called yesterday afternoon, I just went ahead and told Crystal what you needed, and she and Ethan and I had everything rolling and set up so that Craig never saw a change in his pace. Besides that…” The tall man stepped even closer and lowered his voice. “If those rings on your fingers are any indication of the announcement you’re about to make, then we are truly honored host this happy occasion. After all, you’re our _Barrington_ family too. Best of everything to you both! Now, you guys go on in, and I’m gonna go make sure the buffet is ready to come out.” With a smile and a wink, Gregory exchanged handshakes and dashed off to his task.

Once he was out of earshot, Paul said, “You know, I’ve heard that Gregory can be a real dick to work for at times.”

“He doesn’t play. He’s a tough leader. I imagine he might have to be a hard-ass to make sure things are on the high-end all the time. If you want it right, sometimes ya gotta be the heavy in a business,” Daryl thought aloud.

“You have a high-end business, and you don’t go all Gordon Ramsey on your staff,” Paul countered.

“Pfft. Ain’t my style,” Daryl shrugged. “’Cept maybe with Merle when he’s being stubborn as a mule.”

Paul chortled, and kissed Daryl’s cheek. “Be sweet to my big brother-in-law.”

“No promises,” Daryl jested.

The couple walked together beyond the bar and the main dining hall to the back of the restaurant and entered the doors of the private banquet room where Crystal and Ethan were working with two other staff members, setting trays of food into buffet pans over steaming water baths. Seven banquet tables stood configured in a large “U” covered in cream-colored tablecloths and adorned with bright spring flowers and lush greenery with candlelit centerpieces. Gregory and another young cook brought out a prime rib and a ham for the carving station. Another server dressed all in black removed the foils and cages from ten bottles of chilled champagne. 

Paul stopped and took everything in. “I gotta admit though,” said Paul. “Gordon Ramsey or not, Gregory going out of his way to make all this happen is pretty fucking awesome.”

“That reminds me: Keep your hands in your pockets,” Daryl advised.

“You’re so sneaky. I love it!” Paul whispered, grabbing a handful of his man’s fantastic ass.

Daryl chortled and gently guided his fiancé over to their seats at the middle of the table set-up. Gregory and Crystal began popping champagne corks and filling flutes on silver trays as the servers brought the glasses around. Murmurs began to rise at the lavish display. Once everyone was seated and had a glass, including Sophia and Carl, Daryl and Paul stood up.

“Hello, everyone!” said Paul cheerfully. “We want to welcome you here to beautiful _Barrington House_ today. You’re here because you’re our family, each and every one of you, and it’s precisely because you’re all so incredibly important in our lives, that we wanted to share a moment of appreciation with you today.”

“So, yesterday,” Daryl began, stopping to swallow and blink his eyes before looking at Paul. He nearly lost his train of thought as the irresistible smile broke across his face. Paul smiled back, his own eyes as wet as his handsome mechanic’s. “Yesterday… We went up to Six Flags, which is where we met last August, thanks to several of you in this room, and well, I asked Paul, and he asked me, and…” The men held up their rings.

**_“He said ‘yes.’”_** The great ride launched into through a tunnel of lights and sounds, the effect happily dazing the two as they could only focus on one another. The kiss finally broke when they remembered their surroundings, but neither had wanted it to truly end.

The dining room resounded with applause and cheers of delight. Tara was grinning wide and poking Shane to “pay up.” Denise smiled and pressed her lips to her steepled fingers as if she were giving silent thanks. Maggie and Beth shared a tiny squeal of delight and hugged each other and Glenn. Tears of joy were already streaming down Ms Annette’s face. Daryl and Paul each squeezed one of the elder Dixon’s shoulders, and Carol rubbed at Merle’s back while the big man tried to keep his composure, losing only to rise and join Rick and Michonne, both already hugging each of the fiancés with a few shaking, happy sobs. Jared, Alden, Aaron, and Eric, along with Baby Gracie, couldn’t be contained as they made their way around the tables to crush the pair and openly bathe them in joyous tears. Even Coach Negan couldn’t play it off when Frankie wiped a tear from his cheek. Multiple points in the crowd reached for their champagne flutes, but everyone let the Greene family patriarch raise his glass and speak first as the voices died back down.

“My Sons,” Hershel began. “Ever since you two first became a couple, we dreamed that it would grow into a partnership that strengthened, nurtured, and rewarded you both for the loving hearts you share with each other. Today, the hopes and prayers of our family have been further realized. Your mother and I wish you all the love, wonder, and joy of this most happy union.”

Calls of affirmation rang out through the crowd. On a hearing Merle clear his throat, folks settled down as Rick brought his glass with him around the tables to stand beside their elder brother. 

“We got this,” Rick utter as quietly as he could to Merle. The elder Dixon nodded slightly before raising his eyes to meet the couple and address the room.

“Baby brother,” Merle began, speaking up to be heard clearly. “You told me that you’d been out to see Dr and Mrs Greene to ask them for Paul’s hand, and they said ‘yes.’ Paul, back at Thanksgiving you stood in mine and Carol’s home before every member of our family and asked us all for our blessing to be able to ask Daryl to move in with you and marry him. We told you then that we were proud to have you as part of our family, and we’re all happy that the time has come for the two of you to say yes to each other. This family’s better with the two of you together in it. You two have given us back our family pride, and I love you both…” Merle’s voice broke near the end, and he looked down at his glass for a second before recovering. “And by god, I can’t wait to dance with you at your reception. To you.” He raised his glass, and the gathering followed to a round of sympathetic murmurs and sniffles.

The couple had to wipe their eyes, and everyone laughed as Rick had to ask Michonne for his napkin to dry away his own tears before grousing, “Damn it, Merle! Now, I’m gonna look all puffy in the pictures.”

“Keep it together, son!” Merle snorted in amusement. “You got this.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right, all right,” Rick said, exhaling a big breath. “Daryl and Paul, we’re so happy for you two. When this started out, we had no idea how big this would become. We hoped and prayed, and you both loved and nurtured it, and now, it’s become clear to all of us that with the two of you together, all of our worlds have gotten bigger on a scale we never could have imagined before, but if you think things can’t get any better or any more wonderful, y’all just hang on, because this is just the warm up. We love you both, and we wish you every happiness. Here’s to you both.”

Glasses rose and voices sounded in confirmation. Maggie spoke next, sharing sibling adoration and congratulations. One after another, the attendants raised their glasses and made toasts to the engagement, from the serious thoughts of Carol and Sasha, to the risqué and most hilarious anecdotes of Negan, Abraham, and Jared, and the well wishes of Patrick, Cesar, and the Dixon Bros Crew. Gregory and Crystal were right on hand to refill glasses. Daryl and Paul rounded out the toasts with one of their own to their family and friends, even getting Gregory and Crystal to take a glass and to bring in Ethan and Craig to share in the celebration.

Daryl raised his eyebrows and licked his lips, then looked at his gorgeous fiancé when Paul rubbed a comforting hand across the small of his back, encouraging the mechanic to go ahead. Daryl nodded and looked out to the people around them.

“Y’all know I ain’t one for givin’ speeches,” began Daryl. “I hated having to make presentations in high school and college. So instead, I’m just gonna tell y’all ‘thank you.’ Y’all mean the world to us. You’ve always made us feel welcome, wanted, and loved no matter what. I guess it’s not how we start out that matters so much, but how we get to where we’re going in life. I’m thankful that I found Paul to go on that journey; I know I’ll never be able to thank y’all enough for helping get us in each other’s sight.” Daryl turned to face Paul. “Because it’s like Merle told me, once I saw your star in sky, I couldn’t see any other.” Daryl’s face took on that shy, boyish quality that endeared him outright.

“This past year has been beyond explosive, sometimes _literally_ ,” said Paul, much to the relieved exhales and nervously amused sounds throughout the room. “That said, each of you holds a special place in our hearts. You’ve brought us together and given us love and support. We thank you so much.” He looked to Daryl. “And you are my life and my love, a wonder I didn’t think would ever be in my future, and Daryl Dixon, I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” He raised his glass, and Daryl followed. “Here’s to our friends, our family, and our life together.”

Resounding applauses and cheers followed the toast. Abraham’s whistle capped off the accolades when Daryl set their glasses back down and kissed Paul once more.

Following an amazing meal, Daryl and Paul spent a few hours with the Greene and Rhee families at the farm before heading back home. Siddiq dropped by to deliver the weekly fan mail. He and Paul organized them and answered each one. Paul also had quite a few emails about the upcoming season, noting that he would begin shooting in four weeks, and that due to the intensity of the planned fight scenes, he should resume working with the fight coordinator later this week. Finally, Paul had a schedule for an upcoming video podcast that week and traveling to LA later in the month to present at an awards show for hair and make-up.

On Tuesday, Madison Clark called, excited and with news of more nominations, including a Saturn Award, a GLAAD Award, a Dorian, a People’s Choice, and a Primetime Emmy. Executives from the show and the studio called to congratulate him, and several media representatives reached out for statements via Madison’s office. 

“Hey, man!” came Connor’s cheerful voice through the video phone call on Tuesday afternoon. “I called to remind you of the podcast we are on tomorrow. I had totally forgotten. By the way, has anyone called you yet about our nominations? We are totally winning these awards.” He went on to tell Paul that they were both nominated for hottest kiss and best couple for the video awards. Connor was also nominated for an Emmy and a People’s Choice.

“Hey, hottie!” Paul answered, mouthing “Connor” to Daryl over their late lunch in Daryl’s office. ”Yes, I’m ready to win. Are you ready to resume our love not-so-secret affair?”

“Hey! Tell him the good news!” Daryl insisted.

“Wait, _what_?” Connor asked, knowing something important was up. “What’s going on guys? Oh—wait! I bet I know! You guys did it, didn’t you?”

They held up their rings to the camera. “We’re engaged,” Daryl announced. “I got him to say yes!”

“Ah man! Fuck yeah! Daryl, I’ll bet you didn’t have to twist his arm,” joked Connor.

“Not at all,” Paul confessed. “Oh, and we would really like for you to be in our wedding!” Daryl nodded into the camera.

“When is it?” Connor asked.

“Saturday, August the twenty-fourth,” Paul announced.

“I will definitely be there! That is fucking _awesome_ news! I wouldn’t miss it!” Connor promised. “Just let me know where to be, and we’ll make it happen. Are y’all excited?”

“I can barely sleep for waking up in the middle of the night just to look at him,” Daryl admitted. 

Paul kissed him on the cheek, then looked back to the screen. “It’s true for both of us. I have to find _other_ ways to help him get a good night’s sleep.”

“Hey! Fuck yes! That’s the best kinda sleep, man!” Connor agreed, chuckling to himself and giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Well, congratulations again to you both. So, I’ll be online with you tomorrow, and I’ll see you both in a couple of weeks when I’m back down in Georgia. Love you guys! Bye!”

The next morning, after they finished up at the gym under Coach’s merciless new exercise regimen and 50 laps in the pool, Daryl and Paul met up with Merle, Carol, Andrea Holton-Blake, and their accountant, Milton Mamet to view the new shop sites scheduled to open in Newnan, Fayetteville, and Peachtree City in July. Milton explained that, based on the performance of the new stores, _Dixon Bros_ should be able to open three more sites in Palmetto, Griffin, and Locust Grove within the next year. The business had enough to make a very strategic marketing move by advertising at the Atlanta Motor Speedway. Within six years, Daryl and Merle should have a series of ten stores, including new and larger locations in Stockbridge, Jonesboro, Riverdale, and College Park. Andrea advised them to transform the business into a limited liability company in order to protect their personal assets and get better tax benefits. Daryl and Merle agreed and set up and appointment with her to get the paperwork in process for the restructure.

Paul and Connor gave a fantastically funny and interesting podcast interview. Paul even referred to Daryl as his fiancé during the webcast, and the hosts’ guest connections nearly broke the site. Connor joked to the podcast hosts, noting that he and Paul were pleased to be able to wreck their stuff on such short notice. Afterward, Paul discovered that Madison’s office got even more requests. 

The following week, Daryl walked in to find his beautiful ninja in the backyard, fighting against the show’s stunt coordinator, D.J., who was attacking him with a spear, all the while practicing lines with Siddiq. As Daryl watched along, it seemed clear that Paul was the more experienced in the martial arts and actually helped to guide the movements to solidify the scene. When he watched them go through the two minute set, Daryl was convinced it was going to look incredible.

“So, tomorrow we can meet with Bennie and see what it looks like with the two of us,” Paul told D.J. The stuntman agreed, and he and Siddiq headed out for the evening. 

Paul spent the rest of the week and all weekend working at least four hours a day with Bennie, D.J., and a guy named Justin who was a martial arts expert hired by the show to work with Bennie and his spear fighting. Paul and Justin also started to work on fight choreography involving a homemade battle axe Daryl immediately recognized at “Ruby,” the favored weapon of Waylon, leader of the dreaded Crusaders. After what happened to Isaac and Finn, all the torment heaped on Davy, Merlin would be facing off with the show’s villain. A sinking feeling started forming in the pit of Daryl’s stomach. When he mentioned it to Paul, his wondrous actor assured him everything would be fine, whatever direction the story took.

The new house was coming along nicely despite a few rainy days each month. The couple drove out and checked on the construction progress at least twice a week when they were in town; Paul had made certain that alternating catering options from _The Mean Bean_ , _Short Round_ , _Grade A Butcher’s Boxcar_ , and _Craig & Connor’s_ went out to the work crew daily during work hours. Guillermo and his crew had the privacy wall and property fencing up by the middle of February, and the pipelines, concrete foundation, the support framing, and the roofs for all of the property structures were in place by the end of March. At the end of the first week in April, the contractors were running electrical wiring, applying insulation and vapor barriers, installing drywall, and finishing ventilation ductwork. Guillermo assured the men that everything was on schedule, and that the outer walls would be up in two weeks, windows and glass put in place thereafter, and the elevator installed. Flooring, cabinets, tubs, wood and marble tile were scheduled to go in during the first week in May. The attached multi-car garage and guesthouse wing was almost complete. The pool and hot tub would be finished last. The furniture, décor, and art work, already agreed up by the two of them and paid for in full, would be delivered and set up the day they moved in. Meanwhile, landscaping was in process away from the main house, and a pond was being dug out beyond the new barn where a ridgeline of pines ran about half a mile north of the house proper.

Most of their friends and family had come out to see the new place. The couple had to admit how good it had felt to have people mentioning the possibility of having children fill some of the rooms.

On the Friday before Easter, Daryl was finishing up a tune up when his big brother stepped over. “What’s up?” Daryl asked, most of his attention on the housing he was fastening back into place.

“Some fella in a fancy suit out yonder wanting to speak to you,” Merle grumbled, clearly irritated. “Says it concerns ‘a personal legal matter’ and that he’ll wait in your office.”

Daryl tightened the last bolt and looked askance at Merle. “Personal legal matter? Who is he?”

“Didn’t say,” Merle answered quietly. “Is this sump’n to do with the new stores and the business restructure?”

“Nah,” Daryl said. “That’s already been submitted and signed. Everything was good to go.” He walked over to the sink and dispensed some de-greaser soap, rubbing it in well before scrubbing his hands and nails with a brush. He even gave a swipe at his elbows and upper arms, seeing as his current shirt lacked sleeves. He started to take off his cap, but instead just chose to turn the bill to face front as removing the cap would probably leave him with crazy helmet hair.

“Just hang here,” advised Daryl. “Let me see what the hell this is all about.”

Merle nodded reluctantly and watched through the bay window into the shop lobby as Daryl walked out of the shop area. Daryl turned to his right, strode down the short hall, and turned left into his and Merle’s office. Seated in the chair behind the desk was a man Daryl had only seen in pictures, though he recognized the dark skin, close-trimmed beard, and sharp black eyes of Paul’s attorney, Victor Strand

“And a pleasant day to you, Mr Dixon,” came Victor Strand’s smooth voice as the man nodded. The smile on his face didn’t quite meet his sharp eyes.

“Mr Strand,” said Daryl. He closed the door behind him, crossed the room, and walked up to the front of his own desk. All the while he could tell the man opposite him was measuring him carefully. “Make yourself at home. Coffee?” Daryl hooked a thumb at the new Keurig machine on the side table. Strand’s smile widened a bit, showing teeth as he shook his head and held up a hand to decline magnanimously. Daryl went on. “What can I do for you today?”

Without losing eye contact, Strand put his hand on a set of papers with bright red signature indicator tabs in front of him on the desk and slid them over to Daryl’s side of the desk. Then, the lawyer reached in his coat and produced a fine ballpoint pen. Clicking the pen active, he deliberately placed it next to the papers in front of Daryl. “Just some paperwork for you to sign. The lines are tabbed for your convenience; I realize you’re a busy man.”

“What’s this?” Daryl grumbled, no longer amused at the condescending attitude of this prick, who he was pretty sure was ogling him like a piece of meat, as well as looking down on him for working with his hands for a goddamn living.

“Mr Dixon,” Strand started. “First, let me say congratulations on your engagement. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together. I, myself, can _definitely_ see the appeal.”

Daryl looked less than amused; the way Strand looked him up and down, he could tell the man was gay or at least bi, but even more than that, he was downright smarmy, lecherous, worse than any used car salesman or politician Daryl had ever met. This guy was a shark in the legal world, but today he was playing dangerous game in much more shallow waters. “You gotta point, man?”

Strand nodded. “Yes, in fact, I do. You see, I’m certain that you, being a successful businessman yourself, would like to maintain the security of everything you’ve worked so hard for, particularly in the event of certain changes that could happen in the future. This document allows for you to retain all rights to your personal business and accumulated assets in the event that you and my client should ever divorce. Therefore, it falls to me to keep my client’s best interests and assets secured from, shall we say, _predators_ , or in more common terms, sympathy-inducing, redneck grease-monkeys with nefarious family pasts who happen to be good in bed. Oh, don’t bother denying; I know all about your brother’s record. People don’t think clearly when under the influence of passion; that’s where I come in.” Strand sat there looking like the cat who ate the canary.

Daryl looked at the document; he’d seen rattlesnakes he’d rather kiss. His jawline hardened and his eyes squinted, the Dixon death glare in full effect. Strand’s smile faltered and he leaned away before recovering from the force of Daryl’s displeasure.

“Ain’t no way in hell Paul asked for this,” stated Daryl.

Strand tilted his head as if discovering something. “ _There_ it is,” he said ominously. “The _real_ you. I’m guessing it’s that same temper that led your father to try to kill your teen sweetheart. It’s my job to protect him from—”

The desk’s legs barked across the tile as Daryl yanked the desk in a curve away from in front of the lawyer with one sweep of his powerful arm. Strand jumped to his feet and nearly tripped on the executive chair he’d just vacated. Suddenly the wall of the office was behind him, and Daryl Dixon, shorter by a few inches, stood glaring into Strand’s face. Sweat had broken out on Victor’s brow and upper lip, glistening in his pencil-thin mustache.

“Tell me sump’n, son,” said Daryl. “Have you been on dumb-fuck pills lately? Or do you just have shitty memory? Last I recall, it was _me_ who’s been there for him to keep him safe.” Strand gulped as the brim of Daryl’s dirty cap grazed near his eyelashes. Daryl could smell the onions the man had eaten at lunch. “You fuckin’ get this straight: Everything I got is already _his_ , including things you can’t understand ‘cause they ain’t got a _fuckin’_ dollar sign in front of ‘em. If he leaves acting behind, _I_ will provide for the both of _us_ and _our_ family. If he ever divorces me, _I_ will provide for _him_ and _our_ family. I _love_ him, and he loves _me_ , and _he_ wouldn’t tell you to serve up a goddamn pre-nup.” 

The redneck’s words were absolute, but it was the impact of Daryl’s palm against the wall beside Strand’s head caused the man to cringe and shriek out before the yellowish liquid soaked through the lawyer’s pants.

“I’m sorry!”

“No,” Daryl countered. “You ain’t sorry. Not on _fuckin’ bit_. You knew exactly what you was doin’, just waltzin’ in here like you own the joint. You _don’t_ , and you never will. Come in here tryin’ to push my buttons. Be glad you never met Will Dixon. You don’t know Merle, and you sure as hell don’t know me, or for that matter, your client, who happens to have a name: Paul Rovia. _My_ fiancé. Now you take your high-and-mighty attitude, your fake-ass gold pen, and your piss-soaked pants and get the fuck outta my place of business before I call the law over here, the one you were threatening to sue, to pick you up for disturbing the peace.”

Strand collected himself and removed his sports coat to hold in front of himself. “I’ll send you the cleaning bill,” the lawyer spat as he snatched his pen up off the desk and headed for the door.

“Hey!” Daryl drawled heavily, but the command was unmistakable.

Strand opened the door to find Merle’s imposing figure barring his way and stopped cold. Merle stood there trimming the end of his thumbnail with the largest, and probably the sharpest, lock-blade knife Victor Strand had ever seen.

“One more thing I swear to you, Mr Strand, ” Daryl promised over his shoulder, “You ever look at me, or at Paul, _that way_ , the way you just did in here, and I’m gonna make you fuckin’ sorry, ‘cause I won’t hit the wall; next time, you’ll lose more’n just your dignity, and it’s gonna be shit you’ll _fuckin’ miss_ , and if you try and drag his name through the mud because of this, I’ll have a Twitter and Instagram shit-storm so far up your ass, you’ll think you’re in a goddamned ‘70s German bondage porno. I am understood?” 

Strand looked back and nodded.

“ _Say it_ ,” Daryl demanded. It was even more terrifying because he never raised his voice.

“I understand, Mr Dixon,” Strand answered. With that, Merle stepped aside and pointed to the front door. Strand didn’t hesitate to use it, running from the building like his ass was on fire.

“I figured you might wanna talk to Paul, so I called him about this guy. I hope I wasn’t in the wrong to do so. You okay?” asked Merle, closing his knife before slipping it back into the pocket of his coveralls and never losing sight of the man now fumbling to get in his rental car in the front parking lot.

“Yeah,” Daryl said curtly. The desk groaned again as he righted it and then stepped over to load a pod and a cup into the coffee maker and punch start. Realizing that he was throwing shit-attitude at his brother, Daryl made an effort to let go of his anger and softened his tone. “C’mon in, man. Want some joe?” Merle nodded and entered, closing the door behind him.

“Thanks for calling Paul,” said Daryl. He huffed a laugh, “And thanks for being on the other side of that door. Were you listenin’ in?”

“Fuck yeah!” Merle admitted. “I thought that fucker was some kinda tabloid reporter, comin’ in here to blackmail you and Paul, or show old pictures of him in porn or some such shit.”

“He ain’t never done that,” Daryl assured.

“I know,” Merle agreed, “but they can doctor up them pictures and make it look real. Try to scare y’all into payin’ money to get rid of ‘em."

“Paul’s got a guy he pays to scrub the net for him pretty regular. As for him,” said Daryl, hooking a thumb to indicate the now absent Strand, “that was Paul’s lawyer, taking it upon himself to show up with a pre-nuptial agreement under the guise of helping me out. Low-life motherfucker,” griped the mechanic as he stirred sugar into the coffee and then handed the cup over to Merle.

Merle took the cup from his brother. “Yeah, well. You shoulda seen the look on that sum-bitch’s face when he opened that door and saw me playing with my knife.”

Daryl started laughing as the tension bled out of him. “I’d have paid good money to have a picture of that.” His phone rang out with the Death Ascendant theme song; it was his salvation. Daryl swiped the answer button, exchanged love greetings, asked if Merle could hear their conversation, and put the phone on speaker when Paul immediately consented.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Daryl sighed, still chuckling some to himself at the brazen audacity of the lawyer as he explained what had happened just now to his fiancé. Both Dixon brothers’ eyes went wide and their heads recoiled at hearing the stream of curses that came from the phone. Neither of them had ever heard Paul as angry as he was at that moment.

A little over an hour after the call had ended, Daryl looked up and out of the open bay door as his motorcycle came roaring down the street, Paul’s black tank-top t-shirt pushed up his back by the rush of the wind and showing off his killer shoulders and arms. Slowing down, Paul turned left onto the side road and took the second right into the employee lot to park next to the building. Paul walked in through the back door, his and Daryl’s helmets in hand.

Paul walked over to where his handsome fiancé and T-Dog were checking the alignment on a Pontiac G6, slowing to exchange greetings with Axel and to give Patrick a kiss on top of the head from where the young mechanic was bent down putting tires back on the car he’d been working on. Stepping up, he hugged T-Dog’s neck.

“Hey, bae!” cried Theodore, returning the hug. “Damn, you lookin’ swole! You know you were killin’ it in that mid-season opener!”

“Aww, thanks!” Paul said. “I’m really happy you liked it! Would you mind if I steal the boss away for a sec?”

“Sure thing! And thank y’all again for that fat-ass brunch, yo!” said T-Dog gratefully.

“You’re welcome, bro,” said Daryl, exchanging a fist-bump before leading Paul out of the shop and back into his and Merle’s office.

“So, okay,” said Paul. “Victor Strand is no longer my attorney, and his firm no longer represents me. In fact, thanks to Andrea, I just got finished sending an email of my video deposition to his partner, Thomas Abigail, informing him that, should he or Victor attempt to engage in legal treachery or retaliation of any kind, I will file a malpractice suit against their firm and alert the California state bar association. I talked to Madison about it, and told her that I’m going with _Otto, Collins, & Associates_; they’re legal heavy-weights in the entertainment industry. I would’ve gone with them in the first place, but Alex talked me into _Abigail & Strand_—not that they ever did him any favors for it, the bastards. Anyway, the founder of this other firm, Jeremiah Otto, is semi-retired, but his son Jake has a really impressive team. In fact, my new attorneys are his newest partners, Wendell and Sarah Collins; they’re adopted siblings and they specialize in entertainment contracts, and they’ve already managed to get better deals for their clients than anything _Abigail & Strand_ have put on the table.”

“How’d you find them?” Daryl asked.

“They found me,” Paul explained. “Thanks to Daniel, who just happens to be dating Jake’s younger brother, Troy.”

“Daniel who used to rent your old place in LA?” Daryl clarified. “The one on the sister show out in Texas?”

“The very same! I called to ask who he was using and get him to drop Strand, if he was still with him. He said he already had and told me about his new fella and the firm. Then, he made some calls,” Paul said, smiling over at his magnificent hunter. “Daryl, I am so sorry that all this got thrown on you today. You have to know I would never—” Daryl was suddenly up close, the comforting kiss washing away the anxiety.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Daryl said softly, trying to keep his hands to himself and not get grease or grime on Paul’s clothing.

“You almost done?” asked Paul. Daryl nodded. “How about I run us home, and get you cleaned up, and we can pick up some subs or something?” He kissed Daryl again, put this mouth next to Daryl’s right ear, and spoke softly, hotly, his voice melting butter dripping over Daryl’s heart. “And then, I can rub you down and help you let go of all this crazy tension my former stupid asshole lawyer has caused you.” He took Daryl’s earlobe between his lips, sucked at it purposefully, and bit slightly. Daryl groaned and hooked his fingers into his gorgeous fiancé’s from belt loops and pulled the young man’s hips forward, loving the feel of Paul cock against his own as Daryl kissed the breath from him.

“You had me when you drove up here on my bike and walked in with my helmet.” Daryl loved the grin he got back and the feeling of Paul’s huge cock jumping beneath the denim. “Gimme just a few minutes to finish with T-Dog,” Daryl requested.

“And then you’re all mine,” Paul purred before conquering Daryl’s mouth with his own.

“I’m already yours, and I always will be,” declared Daryl, his voice soft and warm, but still sure and indisputable.

**_“Whatever it takes, I’ll do for you.”_** The ride catapulted their spirits forward into a corkscrew roll. When they broke apart after a few more kisses, Daryl made his way back into the shop to T-Dog’s bay, trying and failing to ignore the jeers of his family that made that goddamn smile creep back on his face. He looked back to catch Paul watching him through the large observation window. Whenever Paul looked at him that way, it felt good and right.

Once he had Daryl to himself, Paul drove them out to see how the house was coming. The road crested a hill that gave a magnificent view of the front of the house and property over the height of the privacy wall. Paul slowed and pulled to the shoulder of the road to give them a look. 

“Hey, Sunshine! I just thought of something,” Daryl said as they sat on the idling motorcycle. 

“What’s that, Superman?” Daryl asked. 

“We’re gonna need a few more Roomba robots,” declared the mechanic. Paul just dropped his head forward and shook with laughter. 

“How about some kids instead?” Paul asked, shrugging. “Free labor.” He relished in the nearly crushing hug Daryl gave him. 

After returning home, cleaning up, and floundering more over what to pick up for dinner, the pair got a fortuitous phone call from Tara, demanding that they haul ass out to meet the squad for trivia at everyone’s favorite long-standing Mexican restaurant, _Quetzalcoatl_. They arrived at the packed restaurant to find a set of three tables full of their friends. Aaron waived them over. 

“Where’s Miss Gracie?” asked Daryl, having to practically yell over the level of noise from the crowd. 

“She’s on a leash line behind our house,” Aaron said. 

“Asshole,” Daryl said, poking his friend in the ribs. Aaron made a yowling noise. 

“You remember our next door neighbor, Mrs Maitlin?” Eric answered. “She’s sitting for us so we can have a night out. She just adores Gracie, and I’d honestly rather have her than my own mama.” 

As the gentlemen got seated with their table of friends, a familiar voice came over the loudspeaker set up. “Good evening, trivia teams, and welcome to the _Quetzacoatl_ restaurant here in beautiful Palmetto, Georgia, where if the mosquitos don’t bite you, the hordes of reanimated corpses probably will! I’m your trivia master this evening, the man with all the answers, including those of the smart-ass variety, Sergeant Abraham Ford, and you are about to play tonight’s game, which we call: Sarge’s Big-Ass Team Trivia Challenge. Please note as always that this show is rated TV-MA, and for those of you who have brought your children under the age of thirteen, well we may expand their vocabulary a bit, but at least the other kids at school will definitely know that you guys are the cool parents. Now, while you’re getting into your second margarita, and for those of you late to the party—I see you Daryl Dixon and Paul Rovia; catch up—while you get into your adult beverages and reach the bottom of your salsa bowls and fajita queso dips, please be sure to pick up your answer slips from the table up here and turn in your legible team name so that I can accurately award the points. Now for the rules, of which there is only one and that is…Jared?” 

Jared hopped up and yelled, drawing the crowd of regulars into the chant. “There is **absolutely, positively, NO CHEATING!!!** ” 

“That is correct!” declared Abraham. “You may not use smart phones, dumb phones, flip phones, tablets, shmablets, or any other device to look up the answers. Anyone caught cheating will disqualify themselves and their entire team. Now, on the positive side, why are you doing this? Why to win, of course! Our game tonight has three prize levels: third prize is a $20 gift certificate; second is a $35 gift certificate; and first prize is a $50 gift certificate and bragging rights! Please note that gift certificates are restricted to use anytime other than a trivia event night, but bragging rights have no such restrictions and never expire. So, get your orders in to your lovely, friendly, and most wonderful service staff members, grab your nachos and cervezas, por favor, and let’s get ready to play trivia!” 

Abraham pressed a button on his laptop and the old Twentieth Century Fox fanfare played out through the big speakers. Paul and Daryl managed to get their beer and fajita orders in while Abraham explained how the questions would be asked, the point values, bonus options, and the categories. 

“And one more thing,” Abraham added, standing with his drink in one hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please join me in a toast.” Daryl and Paul froze. “C’mon, boys, stand up!” They rose together and faced the crowd to several whistles and calls. “The bandits who ain’t never been caught, have done gone and roped each other. That’s right, folks. My poker buddies, my mechanic, one of my favorites on television, two of the best karaoke regulars you’ve ever wanted to have walk in, they’re my friends, they’re our family, please raise your glasses high to the engagement of our hometown heroes, Mr Daryl Dixon and Mr Paul Rovia! Cheers, and all the best to y’all!”

Daryl and Paul waved and nodded thanks to Abraham and the crowd of patrons. Several were yelling for them to kiss. Daryl’s mind flash to the night of their first date, a time for taking chances, for going all in. He saw it in Paul’s eyes. The restaurant erupted around them, nearly drowning out The Wedding March recessional playing over Abraham’s loudspeakers. Even the kitchen staff had come into the main dining room to see what had excited their patrons so.

Daryl leaned in to Paul, “We ain’t invitin’ all these rowdy-ass fuckers to our wedding.” Paul just laughed and kissed him again.

The place finally settled down and got ready to play trivia. After a hilarious suggestion from Jared, the tables unanimously agreed on the team name “She Twerks Hard for the Money.” Daryl, Denise, and Aaron, were pretty good at the science and history questions. Tara, Alden, and Laura tackled sports. Jared, Eric, and Paul covered pop culture. By the halfway point, they were in a three-way tie for first place. After the final fourth round question about the name of the ship in the film Alien, to which Paul gave them the answer “Nostromo,” they were one of the two teams in the lead.

“Okay, folks,” Abraham announced. “It’s goin’ down like a hooker on pay day! So let’s see where we stand. In first place, with 83 points, is ‘It’s Only Cannibalism if You Swallow.’ Right behind them in second place is ‘She Twerks Hard for the Money,” sporting 81 points. Up to third place now, with…are you shittin’ me? With 69 points, it’s ‘My Couch Pulls out but I Don’t!’ Where the hell do you people come from? Falling to fourth place, “The Gang Bang’s All Here!’ Y’all need Jesus—no, not that one, he’s taken! Y’all also need more points; ya got 54. In fifth, we have ‘Chik Felatio,’ now up to 52. In the sixth spot, holding at 49 is “I’m Not a Gynocologist, but I’ll Take a Look.’ And rounding it out, with 43 points, is ‘Whiskeypedia.’ Apparently all the clean team names figured to hell with it, and went home already. All rightie then. For the last question, only write down the answers on the back. There are ten answers, and each one you get correct adds two points; however, each incorrect answer will take away two points. Here we go.”

Everyone quieted down to better hear the question. “Name the top ten honeymoon destinations for the past year according to U.S. News & World Reports.” 

Paul’s eyes glittered as he exchanged a knowing smile with his love. “We got this!”

The kiss was brief, but the staring and smiles thereafter only broke up when Jared reminded them that their team could not be allowed to fall to a bunch of wannabe cannibals who feared self-acceptance. Laughing at their friend’s antics, the two of them hunkered down to whisper to Aaron, who, by virtue of his penmanship, was relegated to being scribe for the evening.

“Bora Bora,” said Daryl.

"The Maldives,” said Paul. “But not for us.”

“Tuscany,” Daryl added. “Cinque Terre and Bourdeaux.”

“Tahiti and Fiji,” said Eric with the knowing look of one who’d cut Daryl’s hair the week before.

“Hawaii, Bourdeaux, and St Lucia,” Paul threw in.

Paul knew Daryl had been visiting recommendation sites over and over. They’d even decided to break up their honeymoon stay between Bora Bora and Tahiti and to go to Tuscany with Maggie and Glenn between Thanksgiving and Christmas and follow up on the Rovia family roots, based on some initial research. While Daryl went to turn in the team slip, Paul picked up the tab for their table shaking his head waving away the protests from everyone by telling them that he and Daryl loved them all and were in a position to do sweet little things for their friends from time to time.

In the end, “She Twerks Hard for the Money” placed first, and because Daryl and Paul declined, but Tara had invited the MVPs, the gift certificate went to her and Denise. After joking around with their friends and having a final round of drinks to let the place clear out, the group was listening to Jared and Eric tell about the new people who run Alphabet Soup, a new business next to _Safe Zone Spa_. 

“I thought it was maybe some sort of private school,” Jared explained, “but actually, it’s a new teaching and tutoring center for kids where they do all kinds of advanced things. There’s a teacher there named Jocelyn. She’s a sweetheart! She handles all the general education stuff. Meanwhile, Miss Alpha—yes, hunty, you heard me right—teaches social dynamics—whatever the fuck that is—and her boyfriend, Beta, handles ‘imagination expansion.’”

“It’s like that school in Village from _Auntie Mame_ ,” laughed Eric.

“Alpha and Beta?” Daryl asked. “Like the Greek letters?”

“Yes,” said Jared. “The way she explained it, she and Beta did the legal name change thing as a symbol of their rejection of conventional education as the be-all/end-all way of teaching. She said that the educational system is flawed and just trains people for jobs, but not to truly learn and advance, so they’re committed to trying to improve it.”

“That’s a really intriguing concept,” Paul considered.

“Oh, she’s out there,” Eric said. “But I promise you, you will adore them both! They’re probably as smart as Eugene, just dipped in extra flower child. She’s got a doctorate in Early Childhood Education, his is in Learning Methods, and they’ve done all these studies on learning enrichment for kids and teens. Her daughter, Lydia, is starting high school with Carl and Sophia next week. I cut and styled her hair, and let me tell you right now: _She_ is gonna turn _all_ the boys’ heads.”

“Watching Beta work with those pre-schoolers is like watching _Kindergarten Cop_ ,” said Jared. “He’s just this giant of a guy, but he will see and stick and pick it up, and ask them what they think it is, and one will say a flute, and he plays is like it’s a flute, and another says a sword, and suddenly he’s using it like Errol Flynn. They’re teaching them how to imagine and play and think around problems.”

“Oh, and imagination doesn’t come cheap,” added Eric. “That bunch charges a hefty price.”

Jared admitted, “At first, I got my thong in a twist when I saw that she keeps her head bald as a baby’s ass—some much for new business—but then, she dropped by and asked me to shave it for her and give her an herbal mask. That’s how we really got to know about them. Then, I felt like a complete shit-heel. Turns out, she had cancer before, and she lost her hair from her chemo and radiation treatments, and it never came back the same—so she keeps it short. On the other side, Beta keeps his hair and beard long, but I trimmed it up for him too. They are both big nature lovers. Now to listen these folks at first, you might think they’re into eating earthworms and tree bark, but they’re really just out-doorsy types, into hiking, hunting, and fishing. I think you guys would like them a lot.” 

“Merle might need a second, but he’d come around,” Eric thought aloud, getting a chuckle from the table.

“They got a car?” asked Daryl.

“It’s electric!” Jared shot back. “Boogie-oogie-oogie!”

Once they were finally back home and had animals tended, nightly ablutions completed, and clothes removed, Paul took Daryl by the hands and led him into the bedroom, towels laid out just so, and a set of infused oils sitting on the nightstand. Daryl smirked as his glorious man lay him down on his stomach and straddled his thighs. Like the rest of Paul, his hands were divine, squeezing and rubbing Daryl’s flesh with care and passion. Every inch of the muscular redneck’s body was giving attention: legs, feet, hands, chest, face. Daryl hadn’t truly realized how much he had needed this until Paul’s work on his neck sloughed away tightness and tensions that made his face go slack. One thing that definitely was not slack, was his cock, awakening with desire to be stroked and sucked and ridden by Paul. When Paul rolled Daryl over, the sound of his heavy cock slapping back against his stomach drew amused laughter from both men. Paul took Daryl into his mouth, going down slow and deep, drawing moans of delight and loving curses. When he could take no more, Daryl drew Paul up on top of himself and kissed him before turning the man to face his cock so that they could suck each other, coming in each other’s mouths, swallowing each other’s seed, and falling back together in satiated repose.

Paul hugged Daryl close and snuggled in tight to his hunter’s god-like chest. This was home and security, love and ecstasy, trust and honesty; and neither man had ever felt the excitement it created. They held each other in the dark, waiting for sleep and knowing it would elude them for a while longer as the wonder of the future tickled their brains. Paul knew that it wouldn’t bode well for Daryl to get so little sleep and work so hard the next day.

"Is your mind racing again?” Paul whispered.

Daryl huffed a small laugh. “Actually, baby, I’m still horny as fuck.”

Paul threw back his head laughing and sat up, shifting Daryl from lying on his right side to his back and spreading his powerful man’s thighs apart. “Don’t worry, Superman,” Paul assured as he ran the backs of his fingers along Daryl’s cheek. “I’ll be your hero tonight.” He leaned down and kissed Daryl, each finding a hand on faces and in each other’s hair.

**_“I gonna make you come so hard.”_** That shared whisper ripped the brakes from the ride, and in the dark of night, the promise was fulfilled for both.


End file.
